Time After Time
by nici's anatomy
Summary: A Collection of 24 Oneshots written for lj's "24 times", feat. Jenny Shepard and Others. Part #24: Lost and Found Spoiler for season 5
1. Timing is everything

**TITLE:** Timing is everything**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Probie!Jenny Shepard, featuring Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Ducky Mallard**  
GENRE: ** Gen, Drama, Pre-Series**  
PROMPT: ** #09 "Timing is everything" for lj's "24_times" & prompt #06 ("How do you fail an autopsy? - By doing that." - "What happens if you fail here?" - "Depends, Officer David. Some of them go on to become our Director.") for lj's madame_director"**  
RATING: ** PG-13**  
WORD COUNT:** 1000**  
SUMMARY:** Sometimes you need to fail something to cover up even more failure.**  
WARNINGS:** English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd..**  
DISCLAIMER: ** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

Jenny couldn't remember a timing ever being so good and yet so worse at the same time.  
She'd known that sooner or later she would have to observe her first autopsy, and she was somehow relieved that she could do it alone, without the other new agents gathering around her, watching her break down. Jethro Gibbs and Ducky as eyewitnesses was worse enough, but making a fool out of herself in front of her (male) Probie colleagues was something Jenny was sure she wouldn't be able to bear – in addition to the nightmare she was already going through right now.  
In front of her Colonel Bryan McCarthy was lying on the stainless steal autopsy table, waiting to be cut open. McCarthy was in his late fifties; his hair was already starting to get grey.  
He had been found dead in his car last night by a dog walker. At first the woman had assumed the man had been sleeping in his car, and Jenny could see why.  
From her point of view the Colonel even now looked so peaceful, like he was actually sleeping, and the tiny red spot on his temple was only some kind of birthmark… nothing unusual, nothing that would indicate he was dead; nothing that would turn Jenny's day into a nightmare.

But the red spot wasn't a birthmark and the Colonel wasn't just sleeping his beauty sleep.  
He was dead. Shot in his head, and Jenny knew what the damage on the right side of his head where Ducky and Jethro were standing, looked like. She'd seen an exit wound like that before, not long ago and only for a few seconds. But the brief moment had been enough to traumatize her for the rest of her life.

"As you can see, Jethro, there is a severe trauma to his head. He was shot do death at close range. No indication that he was defending himself. I would say this poor fellow here was either unconscious or…"  
"…or he knew his killer."  
"Correct, Jethro. I remember a case like this back in…"

The men's voices were nothing more than soft mumbling, nothing Jenny's brain could process right now.  
Her eyes were fixed on the McCarthy's body, but all she could see was her own father. Jasper Shepard, found dead in his study by his own daughter who had been upstairs while her father died.  
One shot in his head - self-inflicted.

Suddenly, Jenny wasn't in the autopsy room anymore. Leaving the NCIS headquarter, she had travelled to her townhouse in Georgetown. She was sleeping in her room when she had heard the shot, and she had known instantly that something bad had happened; that this one shot would change her life forever.  
Her father was dead, and despite everything the coroner had told her, it hadn't been a suicide. Someone had killed her father, and she had promised to herself to do whatever it may take to find out whoever had done this to him, to her, to the whole family.

Joining NCIS had been the first step on her five-point plan. Making a career to have a direct access to all resources necessary to catch her father's murderer was the second step she was now working on.  
She'd known that attending an one autopsy (or more) was part of the 'making a career' process, and she had been sure she would be able to handle the unpleasant but necessary task like everything she had managed to do so far: With a smile.  
But Jenny's smile had vanished the second Ducky had shown her and Jethro the body, and now she was fighting back tears instead.  
The urge to run away, to flee the room was getting stronger with every second. But she knew she had to stay. She had to proof that she could handle her job without admitting that the chauvinists she was working with, were right and that women weren't capable of becoming field agents. For this alone she had to stay strong, let alone for the explanation Jethro would demand, the second she would start bursting into tears.

Taking a deep breath, Jenny blinked, trying to fight back her tears.

_'You can do this, Jen! This man isn't your father. He is just a stranger, a random victim that happened to become part of your investigation. Nothing special, nothing you wouldn't be able to handle!'_

For some strange reasons the voice echoing in her head sounded like Gibbs, although she'd never told him about her father and she had no intention to ever tell him. This was her battle alone; a war she had to fight all by herself; something he didn't need to know.  
"Jenny, are you all right?" Jethro's voice and Ducky's concerned look brought Jenny back into the room. She looked up, meeting their eyes.  
"I'm fine," she lied, faking a weak smile, while inside her she was still fighting the urge to flee the room.  
"You look a bit pale, my dear. Are you sure you're doing fine?"  
Jenny nodded. But then she hesitated before taking the change Ducky had just – unknowingly -offered her.  
"Actually, I … I feel a bit sick," she admitted. "I should …"  
"You should sit down, Jennifer," Ducky interrupted her. "Jethro, why don't you accompany her back upstairs? I will finish the autopsy alone. You'll get my report." Although Ducky was talking to Jethro, he was still looking at Jenny, smiling knowingly, and despite that she actually started to feel worse, Jenny returned his smile, thankfully.

Being accompanied out of the room by her boss was bad, but something she would be able to handle better than explaining why she had started crying over a stranger's body. She had the feeling she'd just failed Jethro's expectations and that her failure might follow her for the rest of her career, but somehow she also knew that admitting to feel sick would earn her more respect from him than showing him her emotional side.

**- The End -**


	2. Hard Times

**TITLE:** Hard times**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE: ** Gen**  
PROMPT: ** #11 "At times like this." for lj's "24_times" & prompt ##12 "You can cut the charm …" for lj's madame_director"**  
RATING: ** PG-13 (for some words)**  
WORD COUNT:** 555**  
SUMMARY:** Jenny has a hard time to convience the men she is dealing with that she is more than just good looking ...**  
WARNINGS:** English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd..**  
DISCLAIMER: ** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_"You can cut the charm. Higher ranking, richer  
and definitely better looking men have tried that on me  
and didn't get very far. Now I can't speak for you, Commander,  
__but I didn't get where I am because of my looks."  
5.06 Chimera (Jenny)_

~*~*~*~*

The first time she nearly had lost it was two days after she had become the Director of NCIS.  
She was finally doing that interview for CBS morning show she'd postponed long enough until Ari Haswari had been caught. She was getting ready for the live show. A young girl was checking on her make-up, when she heard two of the show's assistants whisper.  
_"Look at her. She definitely is hot."  
"Damn well, she is. Makes me wonder, if she's only boobs and legs or if she's actually …"_  
Sighing frustrated, Jenny had blended the conversation out, concentrating only on what was in front of her.

The second time someone was questioning her expertise, happened one month later.  
She'd been invited to a dinner with all other Directors and their wives. The location was exclusive, black tie a requirement. She had worn one of her favorite dresses; long, black, sexy. Stanley, her driver, had accompanied her, drawing the doorman's attention at him. He hadn't even so much as considered that Stanley wasn't the Director and she wasn't just his plus one.  
She had bit her tongue, faking a smile, while Stanley was making clear that he was only the driver. Blushing, the doorman had mumbled some excuses, but still avoided to look at her.  
Later in the car they had laughed about it, but at the time she had been just angry.

A fews month later she was invited to a Dinner Party at the White House. Except for the catering personnel and herself everyone else was male and in his late fifties - and horny as hell. When she had felt the first hand touching her butt, she had smiled, assuming it had been just an accident, but when she had felt the third hand reaching out to touch her she'd used what Ziva had taught her and what Tony would call 'her Ninja skills'.  
The next day that Representative was seen on the news, entering the congress with a plaster cast on his arm, and explaining the waiting reporters he had felt down the stairs.

Two years later she had thought she was over this; that she had achieved enough to even teach the worst of all chauvinists she had to meet occasionally, that she was capable of doing this job, that she was more then just good looking, and that she had earned this chair and this nice office.  
But Commander Skinner had just proved her wrong again. He was hitting at her, giving her the feeling she was just a cheap whore, who had slept her way up the ladder.  
She had a hard time focussing on what was really important: The mission, the life of her agents. She had to do everything to safe Jethro and his team, and Skinner knew it. Problem was, her definition of everything wasn't compatible with his ...

Jenny sighed, giving the Commander a look, Jethro would have been proud of.  
"You can cut the charm," she said. "Higher ranking, richer and definitely better looking men have tried that on me and didn't get very far. Now I can't speak for you, Commander, but I didn't get where I am because of my looks."

At times like this she wished she was born as a boy. But then again … where would have been the fun in that?

**- The End - **


	3. Ready for a change

**TITLE: **Ready for a change**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE:** Gen, General**  
PROMPT: **#12 'The time was right' & challenge #152 'Ready' at lj's "ncisdrabble100"  
**RATING:** PG**  
WORD COUNT:** 200**  
SUMMARY:** Sometimes the time is right for a change**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

„Are you ready for a change, Ma'am?" the young girl asked, smiling._  
Ready,_ Jenny thought. _I was born ready, Sarah._  
Ever since she was child she had had an urge to change the world around her.  
When she was three years old she'd insisted to change the painting in her room every summer, never satisfied with the current colour.  
When she was seventeen it was her who'd invited the boy to her prom, instead of waiting for someone to ask her.  
Later, she'd decided to step into her father's shoes, instead of becoming a housewife and mother as it was expected from her.  
Now, a few years later she hadn't managed to change the world in general, but she'd made a difference, achieving things no-one had thought she had in her; except for her father. He'd always believed in her, and Jenny still had the feeling she had to proof something to him, to herself, to everyone else.  
And the time was right for the next step on her road to success.  
"Let's get started," Jenny finally answered, smiling at Sarah, but the confidence she'd felt vanished as soon as the first strand of long hair fell to the ground.

**- The End - **


	4. Winning a battle, losing the war

**TITLE: **Winning a battle, losing the war**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard, Leon Vance  
**GENRE:** Gen, General**  
PROMPT: **#14 'It was time to go'  
**RATING:** PG**  
WORD COUNT:** 1000**  
Spoiler: **Season 5**  
SUMMARY:** Jenny may have won the battle, and the jesters have been kicked out of the kingdom, but there still is no fairytale ending in sight.**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_"The Frog is dead, and the jesters have been  
kicked out of the kingdom"  
"The queen is back on her throne."  
(5.14 "Internal Affairs")_

~*~*~*~*~

The investigation was finally over. She'd managed to clear herself and Tony at the same time.  
She'd proven once again that she was a damn good agent, great in interrogation and worse this chair she was no claiming as her own again.  
But she still wasn't happy.

She had won this battle, but something told her, she hadn't won the war.  
This investigation might be over, but most of her problems were still present. Jethro sure had some question and she knew full well she soon had to face him. And there was this other thing – her 'HI' as she secretly had named her condition, unwilling to even think about the illness that soon may cost her her life and everything she'd worked for. Sooner or later the life as she knew was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it.  
Her 'HI' was taking over more and more of her life. She had trouble sleeping. The constant headache was keeping her awake all night and the rest of her time she had trouble focussing on her work.  
She was starting to make mistakes and people were getting suspicious; especially Jethro. She knew sooner or later he would find out about her condition. She'd always had trouble lying to him and it was surprising that he hadn't found out by now. Or did he already? Was he going to confront her, now that she was back on duty? Was there a way to avoid him, when she here, at work, reachable all the time?

Walking back to the office that now officially was hers again, Jenny realized that there was still something she could control: The time she had left, the life that was given her to live.  
Maybe a short vacation would be a good start. Of course, she wouldn't travel, but a few days off couldn't be wrong. She'd never been good in doing nothing, but maybe she would find time to do stuff that work had kept her from doing in the past. She had no 'Things you want to do before you die'-plan or a list she had to work through, but still there were some things she needed to do. And having Leon around gave her a good opportunity to leave now.  
She could've asked Jethro to cover for her like he did when she was in Paris last year. But after all that had happened she just wanted to avoid questions she wasn't willed to answer.  
No, Leon had to do it.

After she'd called SecNav to talk about her time off, Jenny made a little detour to give Gordo time to discuss the matter with Leon.  
It had been surprisingly easy to convince Gordo to approve her leave of absence. But considering the fact that over the past three years she'd worked non-stop for the agency, she sure had deserved this break. The SecNav had even sounded pleased when she'd told him about her plans; as if it had come in useful for him that she wouldn't be around for a few weeks to give him time to calm the waves.  
Jenny tried not to take it too personal.

Ten minutes later Jenny entered her office, only to find Vance packing his stuff, ready to leave.  
"I hope you're not rushing out on my account," she said, walking to her desk, putting as much strength in her voice as possible, although she saw her plans go down the drain.  
But when Vance told her he wasn't leaving at all, Jenny regaining some of her confidence.  
She nodded and put her gun and badge back in her drawer, than took out her father's picture to put it back where it belonged.  
"It was never my intention to burden you with this responsibility", she said, knowing full well that leaving him in charge was a double-edges sword.  
On one hand she was glad she would've him as her temporary replacement, because Leon knew perfectly well what he was doing and he was more of a leader/administrator than Jethro may ever be. On the other hand it was always dangerous to let someone do your job and give him the opportunity to proof himself to her own boss.

It wasn't long ago when that point had been on the agenda.  
They both had applied for this job, both qualified and willing to become Morrow's successor, and Jenny was fully aware of the fact that it was only thanks to Mrs. Vance's wish to stay in San Diego that in the end she got this job. It weren't her skills that had made her better than him. She'd just been lucky.  
And now her vacation gave Vance the opportunity to proof himself. He may even be able to proof he was even more qualified to do this job than she would be after all that had happened. And although he now assured her once again that his wife was everything but excited about him being here, she intuitively knew that his wife won't be an obstacle for much longer.  
Surprisingly, Jenny didn't care. She knew sooner or later, someone else would sit in this office, doing her job, maybe proof that it was a mistake to put her in charge in the first place. And there was nothing she could to about it; even if she tried. Why waste time and energy trying?

Sitting back on her chair, she noticed the toothpick lying on her desk.  
"I believe that one is yours," she said, pointing disgusted at the ugly intruder, not knowing if she was actually talking only about this tiny piece of wood or her desk in general.  
Apparently, Vance didn't know, either. He looked at her for a long moment, confused. Then he grinned, and turned around to leave.  
"Keep it," he answered, still grinning, and Jenny brushed the toothpick on the floor.  
Another battle she'd won, but she was still sure that in the end she was going loose this war, too.

- The End -


	5. Closure

**TITLE:** Closure  
**AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy  
**CHARACTER:** Jethro Gibbs, Jenny's mother  
**GENRE: **Gen, Drama (reflection Jenny and Jethro's past 'canon' relationship)  
**RATING: ** PG-13  
**WORD COUNT:** 4752  
**SUMMARY: ** Jethro's world has been turned upside down, when he gets a visitor, who is looking for some closure. Written for prompt #10 "Remember the good times." for lj's 24_times and quote #16 "Being a strong powerful women ..." for lj's madame_director.  
**WARNINGS:** English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. - SPOILER for 5.18/19 "Judgement day" and slightly for 6.01 "Last Man Standing".  
**NOTES: **This is the longest story I've ever written in English and I don't know if it makes any sense at all. We never learned anything about Jenny's mother, but since she had her on speed dial in 3.23 I assume she is still alive.  
**DISCLAIMER:** /b I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_Take care of all your memories.  
For you cannot relive them."  
(Bob Dylan)_

~*~*~*~*

It was late on a Friday evening and Jethro had just poured his third (or was it his fourth? Truth was, had stopped counting after the first) glass of bourbon, when the doorbell rang.  
Startled, he straightened in his chair, his eyes moving upwards to the basement ceiling as if he had actually the power to look right through it to see who was on his front door.  
It couldn't be anyone he knew, because they would know that the door was always open when he was at home. And after last week's events there was nearly no one left who would have visited him on a Friday night.  
So many things had changed that sometimes he wondered if this was all one big nightmare he was stuck in and would sooner or later wake from, only to realize that everyone he cared about was still here, with him, instead of someplace else.

It had been one week since they buried Jenny and nearly as long since his team was split up and sent to different places around the world; Ziva was back in Israel, Tony shipped out four days ago, McGee was working for the cyber crime division, and although he was still located at the Navy Yard, it felt like he was miles away, living in another world. Abby and Ducky were still with him, as was Jimmy Palmer, but it was not the same without the rest of the team, and all three of them were only a shelf of their former selves.  
The events had been hard on them, and Jethro wondered if they, too, felt as empty and lonely as he felt. Their world had been turned upside down as well, and maybe for them it was even more difficult, because he had changed, too, although he pretended to be still the same old bastard they were used to, only to give them some confidence, some routine, the feeling that not everything was lost.  
Truth was, he had changed - maybe even more then the rest of his team together.  
When he wasn't at his desk or in the field, he was in his basement, working on his boat and drinking Bourbon, like he used to do until last week. But the hours he spent in the office were reduced to a minimum and his nights felt longer then ever, while the time between two empty bottles of his 'medicine' shortened each day. He knew he wouldn't be able to move on like this for much longer, but at the moment this way seemed to be the only one he was able to take.

One day he would have to pay the price for this attitude, but today … well, he didn't really care.

When the doorbell rang a second time, Jethro sent up a whole bunch of curses through the ceiling. He wasn't in the mood for visitors or - worse - some salesperson who would try to talk him into buying a new vacuum cleaner or sign up on a subscription for a newspaper he wouldn't read anyway,but something in the strange sound of the bell forced him to put his glass down and answer the door.  
He climbed the stairs, slowly, as if each step was a mile high, and walk down the hallway until he reached his front door. He hesitated one last time, before his hand moved to the doorknob. He opened the door just when his visitor reached for the bell a third time.  
It was already dawning and at first he could only make out the outline of the person on his doorstep. Then as if they wanted to help him see clear, the clouds moved, giving the sun another chance to rise, and his vision cleared.  
The first thing he noticed was her hair; long, red curls, mostly hidden under a dark scarf. Jethro blinked, assuming his mind was playing tricks on him as it had done all week - he suddenly started to see redheads everywhere he turned; on the street, at his favorite coffee place, in his dreams … it felt like he was reliving the time after Shannon's and Kelly's death all over again -, but when he opened his eyes again, the red color was still there, accompanied by a smile, that made him stumble backwards.  
He knew this smile by heart. It was Jenny's smile; the smile she had giving him the first day they had ever met more than ten years ago, and that had been burned into his memory forever.  
Jethro blinked again, silently blaming the bourbon for this Fata Morgana, but when his eyes moved upwards and met bright blue eyes, the magic was suddenly gone, and the illusion turned into a real person. But still … that woman was Jenny - and yet she wasn't. Except for the different eye color and her age she could have been Jenny's twin-sister.

"Agent Gibbs?" The woman asked, startling him out of his thoughts.  
"Are you Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" She asked again, when he didn't answer, the sparkle in her eyes reminded him once again of the woman he had been in love with - and maybe still was? - all these years ago.  
Finally, he managed to nod, still unable to say anything.  
"I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, Agent Gibbs," she said, offering her hand to him. "I was told I would probably find you here. My name is Violet Montgomery. I am -"  
"Jenny's mother?" Jethro asked, hoarsely.  
"That's right," Mrs. Montgomery answered, softly and lowered her head as if the sound of Jenny's name alone would cause her pain. Jethro was sure, it indeed did, because for him hearing it was like being stabbed with a sharp knife right into his heart over and over again. But for him Jenny was only a former partner and lover, a friend. He could only imagine how much grief this pour woman felt.  
"Please come in," he offered, leading Jenny's mother into the house. "Can I get you something? Some water or anything stronger?"  
Mrs. Montgomery shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you, Agent Gibbs," she answered. She walked into the hallway and looked around. Noticing the open basement door, she turned back to Jethro.  
"Do you actually have a boat in your basement?" Amusement swung in her voice, but Jethro was used to it. He hadn't met anyone who hadn't had sounded surprised by this news.  
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered. "I am building a boat. In my basement. Did your daughter tell you this?"  
Again, she shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Jethro bit his tongue. He wished for the chance to take this question back, but as usual he couldn't. Damage was done, and all that was left for him was to make sure that the damage was limited.  
"I'm…" He'd almost said he was sorry, which would have broken one of his own rule, but Mrs. Montgomery shook her head one more time and spared him this 'crime'.  
"Dr. Mallard told me," she said. "I talked to him about an hour again. He is a handsome man; kind and well-mannered. Scottish, I suppose."  
"Yes, he is, Ma'am." Jethro smiled, relieved and thankful that she had saved this situation with changing the subject. "All of these things, actually. Do you … do you want me to show you my boat?"  
"I'd love to."

Smiling, Jethro led Jenny's mother down the stairs to his basement, watching with proud as she looked around, making some sounds that suggested she was impressed and pleased with what she saw. Confused, he realized that he was holding his breathe, eagerly awaiting her opinion. It nearly felt like he was trying to impress his mother-in-law, and with some sadness he came to the conclusion that this thought wasn't so far-fetched at all. Besides some 'what-if's'and 'if-only's' the idea of marrying Jenny once had been a great one; back in Europe, before everything had changed from being great to becoming just complicated. Before she had left him to do what was best for her. Before she had come back to be his boss …

Jethro sighed and tried to repress these memories, but this was – as usual – harder than he had wished for.  
"Kelly …" Jenny's mother pointed at the inscription on the hull. "Is this your wife?"  
The question caught Jethro by surprise and it took him a second, before he could answer.  
"No, Kelly is … she's my daughter," he answered. Lowering his head, he tried to avoid the piercing glance, that woman definitely had passed on to her daughter. He felt like being x-rayed by her blue eyes, and it was like she could read him like an open book. Slowly, he was starting to regret that he had opened the door to let Mrs. Montgomery into his house and somehow with that into his life.  
"Is she with her mother?" She asked, softly, showing him that she had caught the signal between the lines, that this was a bad subject, but at the same time she seemed unwilling to lead the conversation into another direction.

"Yes, she is. She is with her mother." The answer was as close to the truth as Jethro was willing to share, and he looked around his basement, desperately trying to find something for distraction.  
"That's good," She said, nodding in understanding. "A girl should be with her mother."  
The sadness in her voice caught Jethro's attention. He gave his visitor a questioning look and pointed at the chair in the corner.  
Without hesitation, Jenny's mother sat down, while he made himself comfortable on a box beside his boat. Silently, he waited for her to continue and to finally tell him why she was here.  
"My husband and I got divorced when Jenny was fifteen," she told him, after she had took her time to place her huge purse on the dusty workbench behind her and crossed her legs.  
She painfully reminded him of Jenny, when she had been sitting on the same chair her first day as Director. While he had showered and changed, she had waited for him in his basement and her long legs had been the first thing he had noticed, when he had came down the stairs …  
Again, Jethro forced himself to forget the past to focus on the future, and yet again it was easier said than done; especially with the older version of Jenny sitting right in front of him.  
"Jenny stayed with her father," She continued, obviously unaware of Jethro's thoughts, for what he was more than thankful. "She had always been her daddy's girl. She had to accompany him wherever he went. Like his little shadow." A smile played around her lips, but the look she gave him was full of sadness. "And Jasper … he didn't mind having her around. Jenny was his little Princess, and he was proud of everything she did. He on the other hand was her hero, and Jenny did everything to not disappoint him."  
The picture of a small version of Jenny with red pigtails clung to her father's coat-tails, that formed in Jethro's head, while the woman was telling him stories he would never have heard from Jenny, rose him a smile.  
"I'm sure he would have been proud of her and what she did," he said and Jenny's mother nodded.  
"I believe he was the reason, why she wanted to become an agent, to wear a weapon and to play with the big guys," she said. "I always wanted her to become something … more suitable for a beautiful girl like she was. But she had always been stubborn and after Jasper … you know what happened to him?" She asked.  
Jethro nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

"After he died, Jenny changed," she continued. "She couldn't believe that her father would have killed himself and to be honest, Agent Gibbs … I couldn't either. Jasper would never have left Jenny behind. This wasn't him. But before his death … he was depressed. Something was going on at work. I don't know what it was, but it must have been big, and when the medical examiner confirmed the suicide I came to terms with it. I wanted to get peace and leave everything behind. There was no way to bring him back to life, but it was our duty to give him peace. Jenny disagreed. She didn't believe in his suicide. We had a big fight and afterwards … we didn't speak for years. She broke up any contact and if it wasn't for Noemi, the housekeeper who stayed with Jenny, I wouldn't have even known that Jenny joined NCIS and went to Europe. You worked with her back then, didn't you?"  
"She was in my team," Jethro answered, again avoiding direct eye contact. He wasn't sure if Mrs. Montgomery was trying to squeeze more information out of him or if she already knew that he and Jenny had been more then just partners, and he wasn't sure how she would feel if she'd knew the truth.  
"Jenny was a damn good agent and a … wonderful person, Ma'am. She had had many friends and although her job wasn't easy, she handled everything as good as she could. She made some mistakes, for sure, but that's human. She earned a lot of respect and … we all liked her and we miss her." He had no idea where these words were suddenly coming from, but he couldn't stop himself, and after he'd finished he was somehow relieved and proud at the same time that he had finally said what he'd felt for years. He only wished he would have been able to tell Jenny these things face-to-face month ago. But since Jenny was gone, her mother seemed to be a good alternative. Plus, he had the feeling this was what this woman needed to hear. He may not be the most sensitive person in the world, but had always been good at dealing with grieving relatives. This was like doing his job, a thing he had done many times before – only that this time it felt more personal than it should be.  
"Someone once said that being a strong, powerful woman was a thankless job. Men would be afraid of you, women would feel threaten by you; and that in the end, a powerful woman often stands alone. I never wanted that for my little girl. But hearing you talk like this … maybe this someone was wrong." Jenny's mother shrugged, but smiled grateful. "I believe you, Agent Gibbs. I've seen you and your colleagues at the funeral, and trust me, I've been to many funerals and I know when it's just a charade and when the tears are real. This young girl with the black pigtails … It was really nice of her to play that song. Jenny would have liked it …" Mrs. Montgomery fell silent, looking at him as if she wanted to ask him a question but didn't know how or if she should. Then she sighed, pulling herself together.  
"She didn't die in that fire, did she? Agent Gibbs?"

Jethro's smile vanished and for a moment he looked shocked, wondering what he should say, what he could say in order to protect Jenny and in the end himself. He had no idea what Jenny had told her mother – if she had even spoken to her at all over the past years – and if he could trust her. Natasha Lenkov was dead, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was safe for good. There were still some bad guys out there, trying to find him, to get revenge for Natasha's death. On the other hand … this woman was Jenny's mother, and she had been married to someone who had worked high classified operations for the pentagon. If she wouldn't know what discretion meant, who would? Furthermore, she was obviously here to get some closure. She had a right to know the truth.  
"Jenny died in California," he said, slowly, carefully watching her reaction. "She was … someone was after her. There was a shooting. Jenny put up a hell of a fight. She died as a hero, killing four of them, before she … she had no chance, Ma'am," he added softly Jenny's mother swallowed hard. She reached for a tissue to dry her tears.  
"That's what I thought," she finally said, after she took a moment to calm down. "I knew she hadn't died in this fire. Something terrible had happened. Call it instinct or … a gut feeling, Agent Gibbs. I just knew it. Did she suffer?"  
Jethro slightly shock his head. Actually, he had no idea, but Ducky had assured him, that the last bullet had killed her nearly instantly.  
"There is more, Ma'am," he said. "Jenny had … she was sick. The doctors had given her only a few more months, before she ..."  
"That would explain everything," she mumbled, and Jethro wasn't sure if she was talking to him or only to herself. So he just sat there and waited for her to continue.  
"Last month, Jenny had called me," she explained. "We hardly hadn't spoken in years, after … after her dad died. She had only called my once about a year ago to tell me she had been right about her father's death, but somehow … the conversation got out-of-control and she hung up on me."_  
She did that a lot,_ Jethro thought, recalling the many times Jenny had hung up on him – or vice versa.  
"I wanted her to let go of this … obsession over her father's death. It's been twelve years since he had died. That's a long time - too long for such a young person with all her life ahead of her. You understand that, don't you, Agent Gibbs?"  
"I do," Jethro answered, although he was thinking otherwise. Sometimes a whole lifetime wasn't enough to overcome a painful loss. He knew that from experience. But on the other hand, he also knew that Mrs. Montgomery was right. You couldn't always live in the past. The past was gone and unchangeable. You had to accept it, work with it and start living in the present or focus on the future. You had to let go. But sometimes living in the past was so much easier. It was astonishing that someone like Jenny, who knew exactly what she wanted from life, had such a hard time letting go of the past.  
Or maybe, he was wrong. Maybe killing La Grenouille, taking vengeance for her father's death, had been her way to let go of her past, her chance to focus on the future again. Sadly, her future had been a short one ...

"Jenny was special. She always knew what was best for her and she just did it as good as she could," Jethro said, trying to offer an explanation for Jenny's behavior. He felt that he owed her that. "Maybe that was her way to deal with your husband's death, Ma'am?"  
"Yes, maybe you're right. Maybe it was." Mrs. Montgomery sighed. "As I said before … Jenny was stubborn, and she got that from me. Maybe that was the reason why we never got along well with each other. When she called last month ago I knew something was terribly wrong. Please don't get this the wrong way, Agent Gibbs, I loved my daughter and I really missed her, but when she called out of the sudden I got suspicious."  
"That's understandable, Ma'am."  
She gave him a grateful smile, before the spoke again, "Jenny wanted to meet and … catch up. We talked for about an hour on the phone, and it was really nice. We both were very careful with what we said, but it was still relaxing. I was really looking forward to see her again. Last week she left a message on my answering machine, postponing our meeting, because she had some business to take care of."  
"The funeral. Agent Decker's funeral in Los Angeles."  
"Yes. I have to admit, I was angry by the time I got the message, and I accused her of trying to avoid me again. If I had known this was the last time I … she … the last time I would hear her voice I would have …" She broke off, sobbing.

Jethro went over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.  
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Ma'am," he said, softly. "If there is anything I can do …"  
"That's very kind of you, Agent Gibbs, but … you can't bring me my daughter back, can you?"  
"I wish I could," Jethro answered, hoarsely. "I would give anything for one last day, but …" He shrugged, sighing.  
"You really liked her, didn't you, Agent Gibbs?" Mrs. Montgomery asked after a while. Jethro could hear that she was still crying. "You made her happy."  
"I don't know about that."  
"But _I_ do," she said, knowingly and reached for her purse. She opened it and took out something that looked like a book.  
"Four days ago, Jenny's lawyer called," she explained, handing him over what indeed was a book. "It seems as if Jenny had taken care of everything; like she always did. Always prepared ..." She smiled. "She deposited some documents and a key to a deposit box with her lawyer ordering him to hand these things over after … after she was gone. Inside the box among other things I found this. I think you should have it." Smiling, she patted Jethro's arm. "I came here tonight to give this to you and to … I wanted to get a good look on the man, who made my little girl happy, who made her laugh again. Thank you for your time, Agent Gibbs." She gave him one last smile, before walking to the stairs. On the first step she turned around again. "I wish we had met sooner, i_Jethro_./i Good night."  
"Good night, Ma'am." Jethro stared at her, unable to move or say anything else, the book still tight in his hand.

Mrs. Montgomery was long gone, when he was finally able to move again.  
He sat down, carefully placing the book on his workbench. He poured himself another drink. Then he just sat there, for a long time, staring at the book as if he was hoping this would tell him what was inside. He felt like that day, when he had found Kelly's time capsule, and like back then he now hesitated to open it, afraid that what was inside would bring back memories he wasn't able to deal with.  
Finally, he took the book in his hand and flipped it over.  
It was one of these scrapbooks young girls would carry around, only this one was unremarkable; dark blue and the typical sticker and glittering drawings were missing. The book looked old, worn out, like it had been carried around for years. Maybe it actually was.  
He ran his fingers over Jenny's neat handwriting on the cover.

_"Our last summer - Europe 1998/2000" __  
_

Jethro breathed in deeply, trying to get some strength for what was waiting for him.  
Then, with shaking hands, he opened the book.  
The first page was filled with text, lyrics he had never heard of before, but this didn't mean anything. He had never been into music, but when he read the text, he realized why Jenny had chosen this song; except for a few lines it was telling their story, their last summer in Paris.

_ can still recall our last summer  
I still see it all  
Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain  
Our last summer  
Memories that remain_

Smiling, Jethro turned the pages, only to find pictures of what he was just recalling in his mind.  
Jenny in front of the Eiffel tower, smiling like da Vinci's famous portrait; the skyline of Paris; some postcards they had bought on one of their walks through the city; a picture of him, sleeping on his - their - bed. He wondered when she had managed to take this picture and why he had never seen it before. He blinked, trying to make out the small words Jenny had written under this picture._  
"Agent on duty."_  
He smiled, giving Jenny a mental head-slap. Somehow he had always suspected that she was secretly making fun of him.

He flipped through the next pages, all of them showing pictures of all the places their mission had taken them, and on most of them he saw Jenny, smiling and truly happy. He wondered if he indeed had been the reason for her happiness, like Mrs. Montgomery had told him, or if it just had been the excitement of their oversea-mission - something each young agent would enjoy. He wanted to believe that it was him, but he wasn't sure.

Sighing, he sipped at his glass, turning over the next page. It seemed as if he had reached the 'Serbia section'. Pictures of the farmhouse they had spent these endless weeks in, were arranged on the next three pages, including one picture of Jenny's favorite cow - a white one she had named 'Sofia', if his memories weren't failing him - and the picture of her in front of the farmhouse, he had given her after his return from Mexico.

It had been the only picture he had owned of that time, and now he knew why. Jenny had secreted the rest of them, only to collect them in this book - among some other souvenirs, like a piece of paper they had used to write down the scores, when the had tried killing time over a few card games, and a dried flower he remembered cutting for her out of pure boredom. Jenny had called him sweet and it had been the first time then that she had told him she loved him. She had taken him by surprise and all he had managed to do was stare at her and change the subject. Afterwards, he had felt bad for his behavior and he had tried to make it up to her by cooking her dinner and agreeing on watching a movie. He couldn't remember what movie she had chosen and if they had ever managed to see the end of it, but this night had been a special one for both of them. Maybe that was the reason why Jenny had kept the flower ...

Jethro flipped through the last pages, finding some more pictures and souvenirs, all of them reminding him of the great time they had had back then, and when he closed the book, he felt much better then he had first expected. He was still sad and he missed her (and these times) badly, but this book … these were memories they both had shared and he was grateful that she had given him the opportunity to be a part of her happier times.

Standing up, Jethro took the book and carried it over to the drawer by the wall. He opened it and placed the book on top of Kelly's small suitcase. He moved his hand first over a picture of his mother and then touched Kate's sketchbook, glad that he also owned a piece of her. He took out Shannon's wedding band, polishing it with his shirt, like he always did when he opened that drawer to make sure everything was still there, before he put it back.

Closing the drawer, he smiled weakly.  
It may be true that all women he cared most about in his life, had left him far too early, but he was thankful for every minute he had shared with them, for all the memories he had and that no one would ever take away from him.  
Memories were something that remained, and with them a part of the people he had lost would always live on. And he knew that this knowledge would one day give him finally the closure he needed.

**- The End -**


	6. You can't go back

**TITLE:** You can't go back**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard (mention of Jenny/Jethro – past relationship)**  
GENRE:** Gen, General, Episode tag**  
RATING:** PG**  
WORD COUNT:** 1000**  
SUMMARY:** Episode tag for 4.01 'Shalom'. Sometimes memories are all you've got left ... – Written for prompt #22 "Picture Challenge - The World" for lj's ncis1000words & prompt #06 "Time changes." for lj's 24_times**  
NOTES:** I have to thank ami_ven for her help. She found all (stupid) Probie mistakes I made and made the story much more readable. All mistakes that are still there are mine, not hers ...  
This story is written as a prequel to "Closure", but both parts are standalone story, which means you don't need to read both.**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_"Oh, nice snap. Where was that taken?"  
"Serbia." - "When?"  
"A lifetime ago, Ziva."  
(4.01 "Shalom")_

_  
_~*~*~*~*~

It was late, as usual, when Jenny finally found her way home. She had worked until after ten and even then she couldn't force herself to drive directly home. Too many things were on her mind and she needed to clear her head. So she had driven around D.C., only to end up on Jethro's doorstep.  
For minutes she had sat in her car, watching the dark house, hoping for a sign that its inhabitant was home. She hadn't expected him to be, since McGee had made it pretty clear that Jethro was on his way back to Mexico, but still… she had hoped she would find him here to … what? Talk? About what? His vacation in Mexico? The reason why he'd left? His family? The picture?  
But, somehow, she had doubted that he would be willing to talk to her at all.  
He had been so cool, so short-spoken the past days that she wondered if it was her fault or if he was still dealing with the aftermath of his amnesia.  
Of course, his coma and the tragic event he hadn't been able to stop, were reasons enough to question everything he'd done, but Jenny knew there was something else bothering him, and truth was, she had one or two things on her mind, too, that she wanted to talk to him about, but she also knew he would never talk to her about these things; his family, their past, the reason why she now had this picture in her purse …  
Jethro had never been very communicative when it came to personal feelings. He would never talk to her voluntarily - otherwise, he would've told her about his family long ago -, and she was afraid to make him talk.

Finally, Jenny had found her way home, and when the entered her house it was already past midnight.  
Without switching on the lights, she walked upstairs into her bedroom, where she opened the top drawer of her dresser. She moved some cloths until she found the book she was looking for, and then walked over to her bed to sit down.

Carefully, she moved her hand over the cover, her fingers trailing the white inscription on her 'Book Of Treasure' as she secretly called it.  
It was one of these scrapbooks young girls would carry around, only this one was dark blue and the girly-sticker or glittering drawings were missing completely. She had found this book at a flea market in Paris and had carried it around ever since. It was one of her most precious possessions, and every time she felt sad, she would take it out and flick through it, allowing herself to escape the present for a while to dream away to a time when she'd been truly happy.  
In Marseille everything had started, in Paris it all had ended, and in-between they had visited many places, every single one of them had been unique, special, worth a memory.  
Secretly, Jenny had started to collect small things; postcards, matchbooks or coasters from bars and restaurants they had been in, checks and take-out menus, and pictures they had taken from each other; all of them now neatly organized in this book.  
Chronological ordered, each place had its own chapter - at least one page - full of souvenirs, and the one Jenny was looking for now, was located in the last section of the book.

_Serbia._

They had spent a whole week in that little farmhouse, with nothing to do, but enjoy each other's company. It had felt like a vacation from their mission, and as odd as it was in the beginning, they had really enjoyed this week at - what Jethro used to call it - 100 miles past where Jesus lost his sandals.  
All alone, they had tried to kill time with longs hours spent in bed, some card games that had involved much alcohol and little clothes, and once or twice they even went hiking, like ordinary tourists.  
In front of the farmhouse was a small field with some cows, one of them - a white one - had become Jenny's favorite, because every time Jethro had come near her, the cow would only look at him, motionless, imitating the famous Gibbs-stare. Jenny had called her Sofia, because of her apparent wisdom.

Serbia had also been the place where she had first told him she loved him. These three words had seemed to appear out of nowhere, after Jethro had surprised her with a small flower he had picked for her on one of their walks, and Jenny was sure Jethro had been as shocked as she had been, afterwards. He had stared at her for a long time, before changing the subject.  
One awkward moment, but in retrospective Jenny would say they had handled the situation with bravery, both professionally and personally. It had taken Jethro a few more weeks, before he had said it back, but by then Jenny had already known that he had felt the same for her. She had seen it in his eyes, in the way he touched her.  
She had always been good at reading Jethro, but after that night she was even better.  
From today's point of view, though, it seemed she had been wrong all the time. As it turned out she hadn't known Jethro at all. She hadn't known about his wife and daughter back then and today she wasn't even able to detect what was on his mind or if there was something she could do for him. Seven years ago, she couldn't help him, since she had been unaware of his suffering. Today she knew at least some of what was causing his pain, but still, there seemed to be nothing she could do; it was as if the knowledge had left her helpless.  
Sighing sadly, Jenny took the picture out of her purse. Finding a free spot, she glued it with some tape in place.

Serbia… she wondered if she would ever be able to go back...

**- The End -**


	7. Cabin by the Lake

**TITLE:** Cabin by the Lake  
**AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy  
**CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard/Jethro Gibbs  
**GENRE:** Drama, Angst (You've been warned!)  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**WORD COUNT:** 2077  
**WARNING:** Spoiler for 5.18/19  
**SUMMARY:**A few months after the events in the dessert Jethro has to learn that not everything is as it seems … – Written for Prompt: "Gibbs/Jenny. The leaves match your hair" at lj's "older_not_dead" and "The last time" at lj's "24_times".  
**NOTES:** Again, I have to thank ami_ven for her help. She found all (stupid) Probie mistakes I made and made the story much more readable. All mistakes that are still there are mine, not hers ...  
The story was somehow developed during brainstorming for this year's NaNoWriMo. nakeisha had some ideas and I worked with them. That's the result.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*~

Alaska.  
Of all places in the world it had to be Alaska.  
Typical!  
It was already late afternoon, when Jethro finally reached the lake he had been looking for the past two hours. Seeing it now and realizing how large it was, he wondered why it wasn't on the map he had found in his rental car. Normally, it should have been, given the size and the absence of any other landmarks, but since this was Alaska, nearly the end of the world and as far away from civilization as possible, he wasn't surprised at all.

Jethro parked the car beside the small but still impressive looking cottage. Leaving the keys and his luggage inside - he supposed the next thief interested in his stuff was ten miles away - he left the car. Stretching his body, he took his time to look around, enjoying the view.  
It was the first time that he had been to Alaska, and until today he had always associated Alaska with snow and coldness, but Alaska in October was anything but dark, cold or unpleasant; in fact it was quite relaxing. Everything looked warm and peaceful. Like in Washington D.C., the leaves on the trees had already turned red and orange, but everything else was the opposite of the capitol he'd left less than twelve hours ago, and, odd as it was, the air smelled of pumpkin and cinnamon, instead of traffic and pollution.

He found her sitting at the end of the wooden pier that led from the cottage directly to the lake, her red hair glowing in the fading sunlight. She was staring at something in front of her, obviously unaware of his presence. Jethro hesitated, unsure if he should call her name to get her attention, but then he decided to just sneak up on her. It wasn't as if he'd never done this before and she wasn't going to fall in the lake, startled to death - well, at least he hoped not.  
Slowly he walked down the catwalk until he was only a few feet away from her.  
"The leaves match your hair," he said, his voice nothing more than a soft whisper.  
"I know," she answered, slowly turning around to look at him. She didn't look surprised to see him at all, and he had to admit he was a bit disappointed. But the feeling vanished as soon as he met her green eyes. "That's what my grandpa always used to say when we were here." She smiled. "Took you long enough to find me."  
"I didn't know you were hidden in the middle of nowhere, Jen." He sat down next to her, a cautions smile played around his lips.  
Jenny said nothing. She just looked at him like he was someone she was seeing for the first time.  
He looked around, sighing theatrically.  
"Why here?"  
Jenny shrugged. "Because I like it here. It's quiet. It's safe … when I was a child my parents took me here at least once a year. My grandfather owned a cottage on the other side of the lake. These summers were the highlight of each year, and I just …" Lowering her head, she shrugged again. This was by far one of the first things she'd ever told him about her childhood or her private life, and Jethro assumed it still scared her to open up on him. He couldn't hold it against her. They both had never been very chatty when it had come to their privacy, and although he would have wished for that to change between them after everything they'd been through, he couldn't really blame her.

"It's … nice," he said, carefully taking her small hand in his. She looked pale, vulnerable and it scared him to see her like this. But then again … he was more than thankful for the chance to see her again at all. All these months he had thought she was dead. He had buried her, cried for her, he had missed her everyday of his life, until last week when he had learned that she was still alive.  
Everything that had happened in this Diner seven months ago had been a cover up to give everyone - including him, some bad guys that were after her, and the CIA - the impression that Jenny was actually dead, shot in that diner - or burned in that fire that had destroyed her house.  
Everything was just a lie. She had been alive all these months, injured and hurt, but alive. And no one, except for Ziva, Tony and Mike Franks had known the truth.  
He was still mad at his agents for lying to him, but the anger was quickly replaced by the relief that she was still alive. Tony and Ziva had been following orders and Mike … well, he'd always had his own way to handle things and his own rules he followed. Maybe Jenny hadn't left him a choice; maybe it had been Mike's plan in the first place. It didn't matter.  
Jenny wasn't dead, that was what was important to him, and after he'd learned the truth nothing had been on his mind except buying a plane ticket to Anchorage and meeting her. At first Mike had refused to tell him where she was hiding, but in the end he had given in. Jethro still wasn't sure if it had been his death-stare that had convinced his friend or if Jenny had had something to do with this, but also this didn't really matter anymore.  
He was here. He had found her. In time.

"You're reading?" he asked, noticing the book lying in her lap. "Tolstoy? _War and Peace._ Wow …"  
"I wanted to read it for years, but I never had the time to finish it. Now I … I may finally manage it," she added, softly. "How did you find me, Jethro?"  
"Mike. He came to DC last week, said he had something to tell me. I didn't expect it would be … this." He turned his head, watching her carefully.  
"Why didn't you tell me, Jen? Didn't you trust me after all we had been through? I could have been there for you … you know." He swallowed, trying the fight down both, the sadness in his voice and the anger rising inside of him. He wasn't here to fight with her or blame her for her mistakes. They had already lost too much time and he wanted to make good use of what they had left.  
But still … he had some answers he needed to ask.  
"I needed to protect you," she said, her voice sounding exhausted and thin; far away from what he was used to when she'd still tried to be his boss. It scared him, but he bit his lips, instead of saying anything.  
"Mike helped me. He was … he is a good man."  
"He is." Jethro nodded. "But, Jen … there is no need to do everything by yourself. Some things you just can't do on your own. Sometimes it's necessary to tell someone."  
"Is this one of your rules?" she asked, smiling weakly. "I did tell someone. Remember?"  
"Yeah, but …" Jethro shock his head. "No, it's okay. You had to do what you had to do. I get that." He signed, squeezing her hand. "But I still think you shouldn't be here on your own." _Dying,_ he added, silently.  
"I'm not alone, Jethro. My landlord is checking up on me at least once a week and … and now you are here, aren't you."  
"Yes, I am."

For a while they sat in silence, enjoying the nature around them and each others company. Later she asked him about the agency, his team, their friends … He tried to answer every question as good as possible, but at the same time he tried not to give her the impression that someone blamed her for leaving or that she had to force herself to come back – which wasn't even possible for some obvious reasons. They all missed her, he made that clear, but other than that he kept his answers very general. But it seemed enough for Jenny. She listened to every word he said, processing every piece of information, like her life was depending on them. Maybe that was even the truth. She had been alone for so long, far away from civilization, from her old life, and everything she had done for the past years, that every bit of normality would be welcomed.  
At some point, Jenny had leaned her head against his shoulder and he'd pulled her close. Noticing how thin she was under her dark-red cardigan, he swallowed hard. It hurt him to see her like this, and maybe she had known it would be all the time. Maybe this had been the reason why she hadn't told him about her illness in the first place, because she hadn't wanted him to see her suffer. He wondered, what had changed her mind that she suddenly let him in, allowing him to comfort her. But he didn't want to ask, afraid he wouldn't like the answer. He was grateful for each and every second he could be with her, but it slowly occurred to him that the main reason why she'd changed her mind was that she was running out of time.  
Automatically, he pulled her closer, feeling her shiver under his touch.

"Let's get you inside," he said, finally, helping her up.  
Slowly, they walked back to the cottage. While Jenny sat down on the huge and comfortable looking couch, Jethro managed to light a fire in the fireplace, but instead of snuggling up next to her afterwards, as she asked him to, he got his stuff out of the car and then prepared something for dinner.  
The kitchen was packed with all kind of stuff, but as Jenny had asked, he only made some soup.

When Jethro finally returned to the living room, Jenny was sound asleep. Carefully, Jethro pulled a blanket over her and sat down next to her, watching her sleep. He had no idea how long he sat there and when he, too, had fallen asleep, but when Jenny moved and woke him up, it was already dark outside and the fire had burned down.  
"I'm sorry," Jenny said, her voice thick with sleep. "I didn't … I'm sorry I fell asleep."  
"Don't apologize, Jen. It's …"  
"… a sign of weakness. I know. Let's go to bed." She held out her hand. "Did I tell you that I can see Russia from my bedroom?"  
"Really?" he asked, half amused, half confused. Taking her hand, he followed her to the bedroom.  
They had just reached the door, when Jenny suddenly stumbled. Instinctively, Jethro put his arm around her waist, steadying her.  
"I got you," he mumbled, silently cursing her for being so stubborn and not telling him that she wasn't feeling good. He led her to the bed and helped her tuck her in.  
"Will you stay with me, Jethro?" Jenny's voice was nothing more than a whisper. Her eyes were half shut and she was shaking again.  
"Of course," he answered, even though he wasn't sure if she meant only for the night or for longer. He had no problem with 'longer'; actually, he was hoping for many more days to come, but seeing her like that dashed all hope that there would be much left.  
"Do you need anything, Jen?" he asked, carefully running his hand over her hot and sweaty forehead.  
Jenny shook her head. "Just you, Jethro."  
"You have me," he said, lying down next to her. Putting his arms around her, he pulled her close to him.  
"I'm here, Jen," he whispered, kissing the soft spot behind her ear. "Forever."  
"... and always," Jenny mumbled, already half asleep.  
Sadly, Jethro smiled, secretly hoping that forever would, for once, be what it actually meant, but something - his gut - was telling him differently, and Jethro knew that his gut had never before failed him. But he also knew that there was a first time for everything …  
He held Jenny all night, listening to every breath until her very last and even then he didn't leave her side, unwilling to let her go. He had left her once and he had sworn to himself, never to make that same mistake again.

**- The End -**


	8. All that matters

**TITLE:** All that matters**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard, René Benoit**  
GENRE:** Gen, Angst, Dark**  
RATING: **PG-13**  
WORD COUNT:** 300**  
WARNING:** Spoiler for the whole 'Frog' Storyline in season 4&5, not beta'd**  
SUMMARY:** In the end the truth won't change anything and all that matters is to forgive … - for challenge #158 'Forgive' at ljs's ncisdrabble100 and prompt #16 'It was time to forgive.' for lj's 24_times.**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*~

"Why did my father have to die?" she asked. "What did he do to you?" Jenny's grip tightened around his hand, her anger taking on a dramatic scale.  
He just kept staring at her, silently, as he'd done since she'd stepped on board. Only the nervous twitching in his eyes had changed from surprise to the sudden realization that he wasn't going to survive the night.  
"Tell me!" She demanded.  
"He was in the way," he answered, his voice trembling with fear. He winched when she put more pressure on her thumb.  
"In the way of _what_? You?"  
"Does it matter, Jenny?" he asked, trying to steady his voice, but failed the second she put her gun to his head. "Do it! Kill me. What are you waiting for?"  
"For the truth." Jenny's hand was shaking and for a second she closed her eyes, certain that this was the end- her end- that she wasn't able to kill the man who was responsible for her father's death.  
"The truth won't change anything," he said, quietly. "It won't bring him back and I will die anyway. In the end ... nothing matters in the end. Only one thing: Forgiveness."  
"I will never forgive you!" She nearly spit the words into his face.  
"I know, Jenny. And I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you. Will you ever be able to forgive you? For what you are about to do? Killing a woman's father? Taking away the one person she'd always looked up to, admired, loved?"  
"Shut up!" Jenny screamed, burning with anger now. She was fully aware of what he was – almost successfully - trying to do. She released the safety catch.  
"Jeanne will never forgive you, and neither will you. But I will. I forgive you, Jenny."  
She pulled the trigger.

**- The End -**


	9. Here comes goodbye

**TITLE:** Here comes goodbye**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE:** Gen, Angst, Character study**  
RATING: **PG-13**  
WORD COUNT:** 1956**  
SUMMARY: **Before her trip to Los Angeles Jenny sits down to write a letter ... - written for prompt #24 "Out of time" for 24_times**  
WARNINGS: **Spoiler for 5.18/19**  
NOTES:** The story is not beta'd - I hope there aren't too many mistakes in it ...**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*~

Dear Jethro

I know this might seem strange to you and maybe it isn't the best thing to do for me, but right now I have the feeling that writing you this letter is the only possible way for me to tell you all these things I need to tell you.

I'm running out of time. Truth is I have no idea how much time I may actually have left to do all the things I wanted to do before I die. I don't have a list or something, I just … I just need to finish some things – tie up loose ends, if you want to call it like this. I don't, though … because you are not a loose end. You and I, we … we had something special, something that will never fit into a stereotype.

I know, I wasn't always straightforward with you and I made my mistakes. I know you hated me for them, and to be honest: sometimes I hate myself for them, too; not because I made all these decisions – I had to do what was best for me - but because I did hurt you with them.  
I knew it the first time when I sat at this desk in Paris, trying to find the right words to tell you I had to leave. Back then, I failed, and I'm not sure, if history will repeat itself, by failing again.  
But writing this letter seems so much easier than actually talking to you. I've tried to talk to you so many times over the past couple of days, I had planned to call you – to my office or invite you over for dinner (yes, I know what you are going to think … I'm not the world's best cook, but I'm sure Noemi would have loved helping me) – but every time I had the chance, I ran away with the my tail between my legs.  
The other day, when you caught me off-guard in the elevator, when you asked me if I was sick I was so close to break down, but as usual the (I know you used to call it that) 'the Director-mode' had taken over and I left without saying anything, but that I was fine.  
I could have lied to you by telling you I just had the flu, but I know that would have made things only more complicated.

I know you cared for me and I can still remember the last time I was down with the flu. I turned up at work, pretending everything was fine, until I collapsed right in front of your desk with a high fever, and you brought me home to take care of me. I still remember the argument you had with Noemi that night about what treatment was best for me, and I know that this conversation caused Noemi's jumpiness every time you are around, but that day … that was the time I secretly stopped calling you bastard, because I realised that there was so much more behind that mask you were wearing, and I wasn't surprised that as soon as we were alone in Europe these feeling had grown stronger.  
It wasn't the champagne we had, it wasn't the hot attic we were stuck in; no it was the flu and your selfless caring that day that opened my eyes and I realised I was falling for you.

Loving someone I worked with was never my intention, and I know you had similar feeling about what we were doing back in Europe.  
Do you remember that one night when we started to talked about us? You just smiled at me and tried to wash away my concerns with just one sentence: "People do really stupid things in foreign countries." It would have been easier to believe you were right, but I only would have lied to myself.  
What we did in Europe might have been stupid and careless at times, but I know that what we had wasn't just an affair, something to pass the time. I was in love with you and most of the time I was happy.

You didn't know that back then, but the years before we met weren't the best ones in my life.  
When I started working for NCIS, when we met, I was full of hatred and possession – I think it's safe to say that our intentions to become an NCIS Agent were very similar.  
My father had just been murdered and I was trying to make sense of all what had happened before and after he had died. Working for NCIS had seemed to be a good opportunity for vengeance. I wanted to hunt down La Grenouille so badly … I hardly could focus on something else. And then I met you. And I fell in love with you. For a few months you draw all my attention to you. With you I started living again. I was finally able to breath again.  
You saved my life, without even knowing it. I never thanked you for this and maybe now it's too late, but I want you to know that I needed you then more than anything else.

But I still left.

I left my happy place to go back to the dark side, and although in the end every piece of my five-point-plan fell into place, I regret how I ended what had been between us. We will never know what would have happened if I had followed you back to Washington D.C. - maybe we would be married by now with two beautiful children. Or we would have failed and broke up a few month later. Maybe it would have been between us like your relationship with Diane (without the Fornell-part, of course), Or maybe it would have turned out like we could never imagined. Now I guess we will never know.  
I know, sometimes people wish for a time machine or the possibility to go back to undo something, to make it right, but we both know that such things aren't possible.  
I chose to believe that in the end everything happened for a reason, and we did the best we could to deal with it.  
But I still feel that I owe you an explanation.

In retrospective you could say that La Grenouille had brought us together; and ironically, he was also the one who had torn us apart. Twice.  
When our mission was completed, when we were about to return to Washington D.C. (ironically, it was a few days before my father's birthday), I got intel that La Grenouille had been seen in East Germany, only a few hours away from where we had been living in that soft bubble all this time, and suddenly I had to make a decision: You or him. Temporarily (no offense, Jethro, but your reputation isn't the best when it comes to such things as long-term relationships or marriages) happiness or the chance to take revenge for my father's death.  
I know you probable won't believe me (and giving what had happened last year, I might not even believe myself), but this wasn't an easy decision for me to make. But in the end … well, you know what happened, and I still don't know if that was the right thing to do. Sometimes I regret that I left you, sometimes I think it might have been easier if I had just told you about my father and my intention for joining NCIS. But we both weren't big talker at the time and the fact that I'm writing you this letter instead of telling you what's on my mind in person, is proof enough that this hasn't changed over the year.

We both are older now, we have experience that we hadn't nine years ago, but that doesn't necessarily mean we also are wiser.  
Sometimes I wish I had, though … But I guess that's one of the many things I will never manage to achieve. But that's fine. I have achieved more things than most people in my life, and although you may disagree, I have the right to be proud of them and of most I am. Not of everything, but of most things. And the ones I'm not proud of … well, they are part of my past and the past is would made us to what we are today. There is no way to deny it, and I'm sure you now that, Jethro.  
We both made our mistakes or things we regret. We all think from time to time "If only I had done something earlier … if only I had been there faster … if only I hadn't taken that road …" This is normal and I believe these things are also part of what defines us.

Please don't blame me for my mistakes. I know I should have come to you sooner. Back when I was your probie; later when I found out La Grenouille was in reach; after I became the director (or better: a few days before to warn you); last year; I should have asked for your help when I was starting to loose control, and most of all when I found out that I wasn't going to survive this year ...  
Please don't think that I did it, because I didn't trust you. I did and I still do. It was just … this was my battle, my war I had to fight alone. You understand that, don't you.  
I hope you do. If not today or next month … maybe one day.

And Jethro? Whatever is going to happen, I want you to take care of yourself, of your team, your friends, our … family. These people are the best one could wish for - as friends, as colleagues. Sometimes driving to work had felt like coming home to my family. I do hope nothing will ever torn you apart. You are something special - each and everyone one of you and all together as a group. Don't let anyone tell you different.

And now that I've finally managed to write this letter (my first attempts ended up in the trash) I'm starting to feel that was wrong to write it in the first place.

I know how you felt (and still feel?) about the first one I wrote to you, and I don't want to make the same mistake twice. But then again … I don't know if I will have the guts to talk to you, let alone if there will be enough time left when I return from William's funeral. Maybe there might be time if I just ask you to accompany me instead of Tony and Ziva, but William's death alone is miserable enough and I don't want to make it any worse by telling you I'm dying (and if I back-pedal again, the elephant in the room might make this trip as awkward as any conversation we had the past couple of weeks).  
No, I will keep this letter in my desk, and when I return I will decide whether to talk to you or ask someone to keep it until after I'm dead (I know you might thing that's so typical for me, but you also know that I like to be prepared for every eventuality).  
And until then I just want you to know that you have been one of the most important persons in my life and I'm thankful we were able to meet.

I will never forget you. You are always in my heart.

Love, Jenny


	10. After Midnight

**TITLE:** After Midnight**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE:** Gen, General, Episode tag**  
RATING:** PG**  
WORD COUNT:** 1000**  
SUMMARY:** Episode tag for 3.10 'Probie'. The sun should never set upon an argument - because you never know if you will get a chance to apologize in the morning – Written for prompt #30 "Lyric Challenge - Affirmation" for ncis1000words & prompt #18 "Night Time" for 24_times**  
NOTES:** This is a part of Jenny's diary, I'm writing for NaNo. I promised I would translate parts of it. Here's the first part ;) Not beta'd.**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_"You countermanded me in front of Metro Police."  
__"I didn't countermand you. You overruled me." - "Oh, semantics."  
"Is that like doppelganger?" - "Get a dictionary."  
(3.10 "Probie")_

~*~*~*~*~

There are moments in my life when I deeply regret having returned to DC.  
I'd worked hard for this day to come and the return was long planned, but parts of my journey were anything but planned, and now these things came back to haunt me. Now I have to pay the price for them.

Returning to DC also meant coming back to Jethro to deal with him, and at the same time forget everything that had ever happened between us.  
I'd promised myself, once I was back it would be the first day of my new life. My plan was to leave everything from my past behind and start over.  
Defying Gravity.  
Denying everything that had happened - especially the parts that would be counterproductive for my future.  
In the beginning it'd felt so easy, and I believed the doubts I'd had would soon become something to laugh about.  
It turned out I was wrong.

Right from the start I failed. I'm trying so hard to act like a director, behave like Jethro's boss, ignoring the feelings deep inside of me every time I see him, hear his voice or read his name in one of the case files, waiting on my desk in huge piles that look like a modern sculpture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  
Jethro is everywhere. I can't move an inch without running into him or be reminded of him and of what we had.

Denial … that's not a river in Egypt, it's a freakin' ocean. And I'm slowly drowning in it.

I can't escape. I can't reach the coast, and what's the worst part of all of this: Deep inside of me I don't want to escape or be saved. I want to stay right where I am, and I hate myself for this.  
Jethro is like the worst drug mankind ever discovered. I can't live with him but I can't live without him either. I hate to fight with him everyday, but I also love it. I take every opportunity to pick up a fight, and I'm sure he's doing the same thing. Because he needs this as much as I do.

Very soon we started to fall into old pattern, mixing our personal and professional life. We started to remind us constantly of what we had, of what I tried to forget or find things that we've to deal with that feel so familiar because they remind us of something we've dealt with in our past. Together.  
Sharing so many experiences can be beneficial for the job, but it can also turn your daily life into hell. The constant reminder of us being partners is anything but good for what I have to do when I deal with Jethro on the job. I have to be his boss, I have to give him orders he has to follow, and he has no right to push me around like I'm still his probie.  
I know I have to be professional around him and I have to make my point without acting like a prima donna, screaming at him or take everything personally. I can't act like I did today: childish and snappy.

I had every reason to be angry at him for his behavior today, but I think if I would've reacted a little less emotional, everything may have turned out much easier and I probably wouldn't sit here in the middle of the night, trying to deal with my frustration.  
I just can't calm down to find some sleep. The stupid case and the even more stupid argument I had with Jethro just won't let me.  
I'm worried that this case might be bad for the agency as well as for our relationship with other federal authorities. But what's eating my up the most is that Jethro and I parted in the middle of an argument; something I promised myself to avoid whenever possible.  
Fighting is good, and sometimes it's inevitable, but what I hate is not to end a fight before leaving for the night, without making up or at least having one kind word for one another.  
What if you wake up the next day and learn that something had happened and you won't get another chance to apologize?

Accidents happen and often when you least expect them to happen. For one second you're walking down the street and in the next you got hit by a bus or shot by some lunatic.  
How can you live with the knowledge that the other might have died, memorizing you as the one he'd fought with minutes before his death; that his last thought is the fight and not that you will miss him?  
I know that when you die you probably won't have the time to think, but still … The possibility alone scares me. And it's not only that one may die with the memory of a fight, but rather the fact that the death itself also means you'll never get the chance to say you're sorry. There will never be a chance for forgiveness.  
How can you live with this? Especially when you fought with someone you really care about?

Losing someone you like is always hard, but losing him after a fight … I'm not sure I could live with this.  
I don't know if Jethro feels the same way, if he's still awake, thinking about our argument. I wonder if he, too, might have grabbed his phone at least a hundred times, trying to call, but never did.  
I wanted to but didn't, because I don't know what to tell him, if he'd listen to or if he'd just hang up on me; and I'm still not sure if I should even be the one apologizing, because in the end I just did my job.  
As director I had to argue with him.  
But as a friend ...

Sighing, I pick up the phone, dialing the familiar number, because I know I won't find any sleep without calling him first.

**- The End -**


	11. The Art of Rebellion

**TITLE:** The Art of Rebellion  
**AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy  
**CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard  
**GENRE:** Gen, General, Humor(?)  
**RATING: **PG-13 (for some stronger language)  
**WORD COUNT:** 300  
**SUMMARY:** All Jenny tried was doing the best she could, but one day she suddenly realises that she was doing all this for nothing. And then she stops … - prompt #21 'About time' for lj's 24_times.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.  
**NOTE:** This is another small scene from the diary, but I don't know if it works. It somehow sounded better (and made more sense) in the diary :( But maybe it's just me and my insecurity … not beta'd.

~*~*~*~*~

It took a while, but when it finally happens, the realisation that no matter what you do or say, he would still find a way to disapprove, hits you harder than usual.  
A few minutes ago he'd left your office in the middle of a huge fight. Slamming the door into your face, he was gone before you even knew what had just happened.  
What was it that you had said to piss him off like that? All you tried to do was doing your job. But maybe that alone was enough for him to be mad at you.

Slowly, you realize that this might never change.  
For almost six month now you've tried your best to make things right.  
For almost six month now you've hoped he would finally accept and respect you.  
For almost six month now you've tried to be his friend.

Now you know this might never happen. No matter how hard you try… it won't change a thing, and you're finally at a point where you don't care anymore.  
It is your life after all. You are an independent woman; strong, smart ... You don't need him to define yourself. You don't need his respect or his approval.  
So why do you care at all?

Once you realize this the next decision is easy made.  
You know it's childish and beneath you. But when it feels so good ... why should you care?  
You can't do anything to recover his respect or acceptance. Things can't get any worse between you, so why shouldn't you do things that might disgust him even more?

The guy in front of you is young, but his smile makes your knees weak and you need a second to focus.  
"One triple grande sugar free vanilla latte, please," you then say and smile.

**- The End - **


	12. Never say never

**TITLE:** Never say never**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard, Ziva David**  
GENRE: **Gen, Pre-Series (if you prefer femmeslash, it could also be read as pre-slash)**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **500**  
SUMMARY: **There are times when you have to break a promise; even when it's one you made to yourself ... Written for prompt #01 "The First Time" for lj's 24_times**  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd.**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

Here she was again. Paris in July.  
A combination Jenny had lived through already once before.  
Right here, three years ago her final journey had started and she was on her way to the top ever since; a way that hopefully would lead her to the goal she was working on for almost seven years now.  
She had spent these years on the fast lane; sometimes she'd been alone, sometimes she'd had a partner. Sometimes she had made decisions she wasn't really proud of.  
There had been people around her she'd though she could trust; some of them were even trustworthy enough to be let in. But in the end she'd always ended up alone.

Three years ago she had made the maybe hardest decision in her life:  
Love vs. vengeance.  
True, heart-stopping happiness vs. cold anger running through her veins.

She'd done what she thought was best for her at the time but there wasn't a day ever since that she hadn't lived with regrets. But she'd also made the promise to herself that she would never let anyone near her again. There wasn't going to be a second Marseille where she'd lost herself in blue eyes. There wasn't going to be another day when she had to face heartbreaking pain caused by a choice she had to make like the one she made right here in Paris.  
She knew there would always be someone by her side she had to trust. But this person would only be her work-partner. The trust she would have would only be work-related.  
There wasn't going to be any friendship, any feeling or pain when they had to part again.  
There would never be a second Paris. Ever.

Jenny checked her watch. Her new partner was already one hour late; not the best thing to create the basic trust they would need for their job.  
"You're Agent Shepard, right? Sorry, I'm late." Suddenly, there was a young woman at her table. Her voice was soft but Jenny could feel a hardness in it that set off the alarm bells inside of her. At the same time she could see sadness in the young woman's eyes that made her heart ache.  
From the moment they first made eye contact Jenny knew that she would be facing a hard time when she tried to keep to her promise. There was something about that woman that caught her attention and of that she was sure it would make it hard for her to shut down emotionally like she'd intended to.  
"I'm Ziva. Ziva David," the woman said, sitting down next to Jenny.  
"Jenny," she said, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Ziva."  
Jenny had no idea what was going to happen and if anything of it was going to be worth the risk she was about to take, but deep inside she felt that this first meeting was only the beginning of something huge and that Ziva would soon become an important part of her life.

**- The End -**


	13. A Christmas to remember

**TITLE:** A Christmas to remember**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard, Jamie Sanderson (OC)**  
GENRE:** Gen, Angst, Drama (I mean it!!)**  
RATING: **PG-13 (for the plot)**  
WORD COUNT:** 4,430**  
SUMMARY:** No-one is supposed to spend Christmas alone, and once Jenny had remembered this rule, she decided to spend Christmas Eve with a special friend to make it one last/a Christmas to remember ... - for prompt #07 'Time heals' at lj's 24_times  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different. Jamie and the hospital stuff, however, are mine. The quote I used in the end is taken from Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol".**  
WARNING:** Spoiler for season 5. This story deals with terminal illness and it involves a child. Please don't read it, if you think you can't handle these things. I would totally understand it – in fact, I haven't slept all night, after I wrote the draft version of the story last night ...**  
NOTE:** not beta'd. I'm no doctor and my medical background is limited to the things you catch up by watching shows like "Grey's Anatomy". I deeply apologize for any mistakes I made.

~*~*~*~*~

It was Christmas Eve in Washington DC and it had finally started to snow this morning. Everyone had been worried that this year there won't be a white Christmas in the capital, but when the city had woken up in the morning the streets were covered in white snow and the snow hadn't stop ever since.

Slowly, Jenny parked her car in the almost empty parking lot. She had worked the whole day and it was already getting dark again when she had finally found an opportunity to excuse herself from all the paperwork on her desk she was supposed to finish this year. Everyone, except for the ones running the hotline over the long weekend had been gone already, and Jenny had send Melvin home earlier, around lunchtime, convincing him that she wouldn't need him for the rest of the day, since there weren't any meetings she had to attend. There was, however, one more thing to take care of on her way home, but for this she didn't need someone to drive her; this one appointment she wanted to do alone; without him - or anyone else - as a witness.

This appointment, she'd been talking about was going to be here, right in the huge building in front of her; a building that had become something like her third home over the past couple of weeks, but it was the least comfortable one of all of them.  
Sighing, Jenny looked up at the white painted front, until she was sure she'd found the window she was looking for. She had called yesterday to announce her visit and she was sure she would be expected. But from what she could see, the hardly lighted window was deserted, and Jenny started to worry, hoping this wasn't a bad day for a visit. She had promised she would come before Christmas, but as usual work had been crazy these past days and she had to postpone her visit a few times.  
"Let's hope he's still there," Jenny said, opening the door of her car to take the bag from the backseat that was filled with presents and cookies Noemi had made for her last weekend. With her free hand she also grabbed the huge brown stuffed bear that was almost too big and heavy to be carried with only one hand - especially with a hand that was so lifeless like hers, feeling as if it was frozen and already dead. Jenny could hardly move her fingers and it wasn't the first time today that she felt a deep regret for misplacing her gloves sometime earlier.  
"Time to meet your new friend, Mr. Bear ..."

Jenny closed the car door with her hip and walked as fast as her load and the slippery snow under her heels allowed her to the front door of the Georgetown University Hospital to head right for the elevator that had brought her so many times (too many times) in the past month to the third floor. Trying not to look around too much, because the sad and pale faces of the inhabitants she passed on her way, made the big knot in her stomach grew larger and made it even harder for her to breathe properly, Jenny left the elevator and walked down the hallway until she reached the small reception to her right to inform the neurology's head nurse she was here.

Nurse Gina, a short woman that looked so old and wrinkled that Jenny assumed she was maybe already working here before Jenny was even born, was sitting on her usual chair, reading one of her magazines about cooking and knitting (or some other household stuff Jenny herself had successfully avoided learning). She looked up when Jenny reached the counter, smiling.  
"Miss Shepard," Gina said. "That's a surprise. I didn't expect to see you so late tonight. Do you have an appointment with Doctor Johnson?" Her hand was already reaching for the phone, when Jenny stopped her by shaking her head.  
"I'm here to visit Jamie," she said. "Doctor Johnson told me he would love to have some visitors."  
"Oh." Gina's face brightened and for the first time since Jenny had arrived the nurse seems to notice the teddy bear Jenny was carrying. "He didn't tell me that but ... of course Jamie would love to see you. Although ..." Gina sighed and her smile turned into something that fit the sad look in her eyes. "Does he have a bad day?" Jenny asked, worried and Gina nodded slowly. Jenny knew that she had no right to be informed about the boy's condition and that Gina had probably already broken a few rules with that nod alone, but she was truly worried about her young friend.  
"We had to start with the chemo again," Gina said, her voice only a whisper. "Doctor Johnson tried to wait until after Christmas, but … Jamie ..."  
"The tumor grew again?"  
"Unfortunately, yes. You understand that I can't ..."  
"Yes, I do," Jenny tried to assure Gina. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," She placed the teddy on the small counter to take the cookie box out of her bag. "I guess he won't be able to eat these then," she said, handing the box over to Gina. "Take them. They are ... home-made."  
Gina thanked Jenny effusively and led her to the closed door of Jamie's room, at the end of the hallway.  
"Call me when he needs anything," she said, leaving Jenny alone again. Taking a deep breath, Jenny slowly opened the door and entered the room.  
The lights were turned off, but the room wasn't as dark as expected. The TV in the corner was on and additionally to its soft light, the room was lit by the many small blinking lights of the machines Jamie was surrounded by.

The seven year old boy was lying in the only bed, covered up to his chin with his favorite sheets. Spongebob was looking at Jenny from where Jamie's chest was hidden, grinning, and the same yellow guy was talking to her in the most annoying voice Jenny had ever heard from the TV. Jamie, however, had his eyes closed, but Jenny knew he wasn't sleeping; at least not peacefully. The first two rounds of chemo were always tough on the little boy and she knew that Jamie hardly ever slept during these days, even when the nurses increase the morphine he was getting for the pain. Jamie had told her herself right when they had first met less than four month ago.

Jenny had been in the hospital to see Dr. Johnson. She wasn't feeling good for weeks then, and after she'd told Ducky about her headaches and dizziness, the ME had strongly recommended her to see a specialist. She didn't want to go to Bethesda - which would have been the first choice since it was a Naval hospital - and despite things like doctor-patient confidentiality, she would have felt uncomfortable to see someone from there, knowing that she could met some familiar faces at any time, arousing suspicion. After some thinking and hesitation, that took one whole weekend she'd spend in pain, she had finally called Todd Gelfand. Todd was still an old friend and someone she trusted. He was a specialist and after he'd treated Jethro twice, Jenny was sure he would be able to help her. Unfortunately, her old friend had taken an university teaching position in Chicago last summer that kept him there for the rest of the year. He was willing to fly to Washington to make some tests, but Jenny had turned his offer down. She didn't want to cause any more trouble, and in the end (after some discussion) Todd had given in, but promised to make some calls. A few hours later he'd called back to tell her Doctor Johnson, an old friend of him who was working part-time at Georgetown, wanted to see her first thing the next morning.

During her first visit - and the many more that followed - Jenny had met the small boy that was now lying in the bed in front of her, looking as tiny and fragile as never before.  
While she had been waiting for the results of her CT scan, he suddenly had been standing in front of her, and before Jenny had even time to react he was already sitting next to her. He was wearing an old jumper that was too short for him, a Yankee's cap that couldn't cover his hairless head, and he was pushing an IV card. He was all by himself and Jenny had instinctively looked out for his parents or someone who was looking after him - or maybe searching for him because he had escaped from somewhere.  
"I'm Jamie," the boy had told her, not the slightest bit shy or afraid of her, as a complete stranger. "What's your name?"  
"Jenny," she had answered, feeling quiet uncomfortable under his intense look.  
"Are you waiting for Doctor J?"  
"Doctor … J?"  
"Doctor Johnson. You know, the tale guy with the white coat … he's my doctor, too. Are you waiting for him?"  
"Yes, I am waiting for Doctor J." Jenny couldn't help but smile. "Are you here all alone ... Jamie? Where are your parents?"  
"My mom's dead and my dad ... I don't know where he is. Maybe he's dead, too; or in prison. Mom never talked about him, you know ... Or maybe I just can't remember. I was only three when she died. It was a car accident. A bus hit our car. I survived."

Although his voice was full of proud in the end, at that moment Jenny had deeply regretted to ask these questions in the first place, but Jamie never gave her a chance to apologize. He wouldn't stop talking for only a second. He'd told her that he was living in an orphanage in Fairfax, Virginia, but for the past year he had spent most of his time in the hospital. He had a tumor in his head that was inoperable, but most of the time he was fine. There was no chance to remove the tumor completely without causing brain damage ("turning me into a lunatic" where the words he'd used) and Jamie's chances to celebrate his next birthday in February were less then ten percent. They still tried to treat him with radiation and chemo, but the tumor wasn't responding much or shrinking. However, it wasn't growing anymore and Jamie took that as a good sign.  
"At least my head won't explode like it did in that cartoon I saw the other day," he'd said. "It was like when you put a bomb into a pumpkin. Have you ever seen a pumpkin explore? ... It's messy."  
When he had told her this, Jenny had cried silent tears, and she was relieved when the nurse had finally called her into Doctor Johnson's office to discuss the first test results with him, and the whole time Jenny had had a hard time focusing on her own condition.  
How bad could she be when there was a small boy out there waiting for her to return, who would never celebrate his eight birthday, never go to school or to college, who wouldn't fall in love, kiss a girl for the first time or do any of the other things she'd had the opportunity to experience the past forty years?  
How fair was life when children that young never got the chance to live?

Jenny didn't care about her own condition that day and the sad look in Doctor Johnson's eyes didn't bother her much until the next day when she experienced her first 'episode of nausea' - as Doctor Johnson had predicted. She was at work, on her way to a video conference in MTAC when a sudden feeling of dizziness had overwhelmed her and forced her to stumble against the banister, her whole body shaking. Luckily, no-one had noticed anything, and after a few second it was gone again. But the realization that something was terribly wrong with her never left her mind again, and ever since then she was living with the knowledge that she had maybe less time left than the boy in the bed in front of her.

She had called Doctor Johnson that same day and he had ordered some more tests for her. Ducky had contacted the hospital later, too, to get an update about what was wrong with he, and he'd run some tests. The ME had tried to explain it to her as simple and understandable as possible, but in the end it was only the fact that her illness was terminal and she had not much time left, that really got through to Jenny.  
She was in treatment since then and she was responding pretty well to her medication. But the medication could only ease the pain and repress the symptoms, and maybe give her some more time to tie up some loose ends; it wouldn't heal her or let her life another year, though, and Jenny knew that eventually she had to say goodbye to everyone and everything she loved. Maybe this was even her last Christmas she would ever celebrate - or the last holiday she would ever had the opportunity to celebrate with her friends, her family or colleagues.

And still … here she was. In this hospital on Christmas Eve, and there wasn't another place she'd rather like to be.

Jamie Sanderson was her friend, someone she really liked, and although she only knew him for a few months, and despite the age difference, she felt he was the best friend she'd had in a long time.  
When she was with him she could forget who she was, what she had to deal with, what she'd done in her past, the mistakes she'd made, the wrong decisions and the pain she'd caused ... For a while she was just a woman, just Jenny Shepard – not the director, not the former agent or someone dying from an illness no-one had a cure for.

Jamie made her laugh, with him she felt free. It was as if he was the family she'd never had, the son she'd never wanted by choosing her career over her private happiness. She'd never really seen herself as a mother or a wife, and until she had met Jamie she'd never known that she could actually take care of a child and bring some joy into this young life. Jamie also was the reason she hadn't hesitated to take Carson with her home that one evening when the only other option she had handing him over to social services. The only experiences she'd had with children by the time were with Jamie, but that had let her optimistic that she would be able to take care of the boy. And she did. Carson had survived the night at her place and afterwards Jenny's wish to have an own child had grown stronger than ever before.  
Of course, being pregnant and becoming a mom weren't option she had anymore, but being with Jamie helped her to fill that gap; at least for a bit.  
In the beginning she'd felt awkward and insecure, but Jamie was one of these kids that just look at you and their smile help you forgot everything that worries you, instantly.

Jamie was an amazing guy. He even laughed when he was in pain, and even when he felt like crying he managed to cheer everyone else up. He was the little star of the hospital, everyone liked him, everyone cared for him; and no-one wondered when Jenny started to ask for Jamie every time she had an appointment with her doctor, and most of the time Jamie was already waiting for her in the hallway.  
She'd never found out how he knew in advance she was coming these days, but she assumed Doctor Johnson - or one of the nurses - were tipping him off. And Jenny didn't mind. Actually, she was really starting to look forward to her doctor's appointments; not to the needles they were piercing into her body or the dizziness she felt every time they adjusted her medication, but she was looking forward meeting Jamie to make sure he was alright and someone was taking care of him.  
Last week when even the last one was starting to get excited about the holidays, talking about the Christmas parties or the time they were going to spend with their families, Jenny had realized that no-one was going to visit Jamie or taking him home for the holidays. She'd thought about inviting him over to her place - the house was big enough for a whole football team, and Noemi had done her best to decorate every free space with Christmas decoration -, but after she'd talked to the doctors and phoned the orphanage that dream had died before it was even really born.  
Jamie was too fragile to leave the hospital, and since Jenny wasn't his legal guardian and, legally spoken, a perfect stranger, no-one allowed her to take Jamie with her. She was disappointed after these phone calls, but it hadn't kept Jenny away from the little boy.  
When he wasn't allowed to come to her place, she was going to visit him at his place.

Excited and nervous Jenny had started to make plans for Christmas. She had bought presents, asked Noemi to bake some more cookies and she'd even asked everyone at the agency to sign a card for Jamie. Of course, she hadn't told anyone about the boy or why (and how) she'd met him, and as far as everyone was concerned the card was for the children home they were collection the gifts for this year.  
Jenny had the card with her, and she placed it carefully on the small table beside Jamie's bed where he'd already collected some cards, mostly from the nurses and doctors or some organization that took care of children like Jamie, without family, without presents or company. Jamie, however, would have at least two of these things tonight: presents and Jenny's company.  
When Jenny turned the TV to mute and slipped out of her cloak, Jamie opened his eyes, and although he looked exhausted and tired, he smiled and tried to sit up.

"He, buddy," Jenny said softly, placing a hand on Jamie's shoulder to carefully push him back into his bed. There was no need for him to sit up. "How are you today? Gina told me you were brave."  
"I am," Jamie answered, sinking back into his pillow, his voice weak and sick with sleep. "You came."  
"I promised I would." Jenny smiled and placed the teddy next to Jamie. "I brought you a new friend. He told me his name was Mr. Bear, but I'm sure he won't mind if you call him something else. Any idea?"  
Jamie turned his head to give the bear a long look, obviously trying to figure out, if the name Jenny had chosen was acceptable or not.  
Finally, he asked, "Is he a boy or a girl?"  
"I don't know," Jenny answered. "What do you prefer?"  
"A girl. And I will name her … Jen. Is this okay? I ... I mean, you are Jen, but when you aren't here I would always have someone with me who …"  
"It's okay, Jamie," Jenny interrupted him, smiling. "There is more than one Jenny in this world, and I think ... yes, she's good-looking enough to deserve this name."  
Jamie's small hand reached for his new friend and Jenny helped him tuck 'Jen' in.  
"You won't believe what happened today," she said in a cheerful voice, trying desperately to ignore the boy's pale, sweaty skin and his shaky hand. She'd experienced some of Jamie's not-so-good days, but this one was by far one that scared her to death.  
"What?" Jamie asked. "Did you catch a bad guy today?" Jenny had told him that she was working for NCIS, and once he'd understood that NCIS was something like the police he was eager to learn more about what she was doing every day. He didn't care that she was working most of her time from behind her desk and not on the street, and Jenny didn't try to explain to him that she wasn't really the one catching the bad guys. He was too excited to know a someone from the police that she just hadn't the heart to crash this illusion  
"Do you think Santa is a bad guy?" she asked. "Because ... he's the one I met."  
"You did not," Jamie protested, but his eyes had already detected the gift packages Jenny had placed on the end of his bed.  
"Yes, I did. And you know what? He had a lot of presents for someone named Jamie Sanderson. He said this guy is here in the hospital, and since you know everyone here so well, I thought maybe you could help me find him ... do you know him?"  
"Of course!" Jamie said, excited. "That's me. I am Jamie Sanderson. James Michael Sanderson. But my friends call me Jamie. Santa knows this, because I told him. In my letter. Are these for me?"

Jenny smiled and the next minutes they were both busy unpacking the boxes she had wrapped so carefully with Noemi's help. As expected, the small remote-controlled truck was the highlight of the evening and Jenny could literally feel Jamie's disappointment when he realized he was too weak to take the truck out in the hallway to try it out.  
"I could come back tomorrow, if you like," she tried to comfort him and although she could see it wasn't actually working, Jamie nodded and concentrated on the books instead, she had brought him, too.  
Most of them Jenny had never heard of before, but she had trusted the woman in the bookstore who had recommended them to her as 'perfect for a seven year old boy'. And there was also one book she hadn't bought in the shop. This book she had taken from the bookshelf in her father's study; a book as old as she was, maybe even older, and one that had stayed with her, her whole life.

"I have something for you, too," Jamie announced, before Jenny had the chance to ask him, if they should check out some of these books. He reached behind her and pulled a piece of paper out from under his pillow. "I think I've slept on it, but … it's not damaged. Not too much, at least." Handing the drawing over, he smiled.  
"Thank you, Jamie," Jenny said. She was once again trying to chock back her tears.  
"Nurse Caroline helped me with the Christmas tree, but the rest I did all by myself," Jamie confessed, pointing at the huge tree in front of a building that looked like the NCIS headquarter.  
In front of the building, Jamie had drawn eight persons, and Jenny recognized each and every one of them in a second. Jamie had never met the people she was working with, but he had remembered everything she'd ever told him about them; Ducky's hat and his bow-tie, Abby's pigtails, the coffee in Jethro's hand, Jimmy Palmer's glasses, the computer next to McGee ... even the tiny versions of Tony and Ziva looked as if they were in the middle of a playful fight. And the woman with the red hair (Jenny assumed it was her) was looking up to something that she had first mistaken with a cloud. But when she looked closer she saw that it wasn't a cloud. It was another person, a smaller one with angle wings, placed above the building and everyone else; Jamie looking down at them, smiling, his blonde hair blowing softly in the wind.

Jenny no longer had a chance against the tears that were now running down her cheeks. "It's beautiful, Jamie. Thank you!" She hugged the little boy, carefully, trying not to break or hurt him. "That is the best present I ever got." She placed a small kiss on his forehead, and for a while they just sat there, enjoying each others company and the joy they'd brought into there lives.  
After a while, Jamie took the old book, offering it to Jenny. "Can you read it to me? Please?"  
"Of course," Jenny said, wiping off her tears and taking the book. Slowly, she moved her hands over the book cover as she had done it many times before in her life, trying to remember all of them, while she opened the book.

"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that ..." The second Jenny started reading Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" she knew the theme of these first chapter (or of the whole story) was appropriate and most likely something they both could enjoy at the moment, but when she felt Jamie snuggling up against her, she continued reading carrying Jamie with her off to the magic world she'd loved ever since she was a child, sitting in her father's study, listening to his soft voice reading this story to her.  
Her father was long gone, and for years, Jenny had thought this tradition they'd shared every year on Christmas Eve would be gone with him, but this Christmas she was finally able to give something of this spirit back to someone who deserved this magic moment of pure happiness as much as she had deserved it all these years ago, and as much as - hopefully - many children will deserve it that night and the many nights to follow.

People die. Every day. When they die, they take so much with them, but they also leave things behind; not only grief and pain caused by their deaths, but memories and footprints they'd left in other people's lives. These things keep parts of them alive, forever; they will never be gone, completely. As long as there are people remembering them and the things they've done in their lives, these people will live on. In memories. In tradition. In small, simple things like reading to someone from a book as old as the one Jenny was now holding in her hand, while Jamie, still snuggled up against her, slowly drifted into a long and peaceful sleep, dreaming of the perfect Christmas they both had the chance to share tonight.

**- The End -**


	14. Better late than never

**TITLE:** Better late than never**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard, Abby Sciuto**  
GENRE: **Gen, episode tag for 3.09 "Frame up"**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **500**  
SUMMARY: **She had only tried to do her job but then she realized that she'd almost ruined two lives of the ones close to her ... Written for prompt #19 "Next Time" for lj's 24_times **  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd**.  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

_Abby's overworked. She needed help down there._

Jenny had hired Sterling with her best intentions. It was her job to increase the efficiency of each employee to increase the efficiency of the whole agency, and that had been the only reason for Sterling's employment.

_You haven't been here long enough to know what she needs yet, Jen._

Jethro probably had been right. She hadn't known Abby or any other employee long enough to really know them. But it wasn't her job to know everyone; their names, their profession… of course but besides that … Someday she might know most of them, and Jenny had the strong feeling that she would know the ones working for Jethro best. Some day in the future.

_It's not me you have to worry about, Director. _

She'd smiled when he'd warned her. She really couldn't see Abby hurting someone but after today … Tonight she'd seen Abby from a totally different perspective. She'd never imagined Abby being a fighter. Abby was a hugger. But still … what she'd done tonight had probably saved her life - and Jenny's, too; because Jethro would never have forgiven her if anything had happened.

_Now can I work alone?_

As shocked as she'd been when she'd seen Sterling lying on the floor, tied up with duct tape, Jenny couldn't help but smile, knowing she would never doubt Abby's efficiency again. When she wanted to work alone she would work alone; but not tonight.  
After everyone had left to take care of Sterling, Jenny had stayed behind to help Abby cleaning up. They'd worked in silence, and it wasn't until they were nearly finished that Jenny broke the silence.  
"I'm sorry, Abby," she said, without realizing what she was doing. "I should've listened to Gibbs. But …"  
"You just tried to do your job, director."  
Jenny nodded. "It's not easy … especially when you work with someone like Gibbs."  
Abby smiled knowingly, and they both fell back into silence. They worked hand in hand as if they'd done this before.

_She's a lot like you– very hands-on. _

By the time Jenny hadn't known what Jethro had tried to tell her but after tonight she was almost sure that there was something she and Abby had in common. Not visible or obvious, but still there. Somewhere…  
"Next time you …" Abby's voice startled Jenny out of her thoughts and she looked up.  
"There won't be a next time, Abby."  
"You promise?"  
"I promise." Jenny smiled. "Now, come on. Tony's waiting for you. Last time I saw him he looked like he could use a hug."  
Abby beamed with joy; as always when someone promised her the opportunity for a hug. "And pizza," she said excited, already on her way to the elevator. "We should order pizza."  
"We should," Jenny said quietly, watching Abby leave. She still hadn't celebrated the start of her new job. Maybe tonight was the right time to do it.  
It would be a few months late … but like they said: Better late than never.

**- The End -**


	15. A Special Night

**TITLE:** A Special Night**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard/Jethro Gibbs**  
GENRE:** Romance, slightly Angst**  
RATING:** PG-13**  
WORD COUNT:** 1000**  
SUMMARY:** Jenny's plan was to spend Christmas Eve alone. As usual … But there are forces that have other plans – Written for prompt #08 "Time stops" for lj's 24_times**  
NOTES:** Not beta'd**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*~

Her plan was to spend Christmas Eve at home; working, maybe watching a movie and - although she didn't intend to - thinking about her life, her past, about what could've been ... Things she could be proud of, stuff she would change in an instance, if only she had the change to turn back time.  
She had done this before - spending Christmas alone - but this year it was different. It felt different, because she was back home, in her parent's house with all its memories packed in every room. Since she was back in Washington, she hadn't changed much to make it her house. She liked it the way it was, and although most of these memories were painful she also needed these constant reminders.

Tonight, however, on Christmas Eve things were different.  
By the time it was getting dark and Jenny had to turn on some lights, the nightmare started. Suddenly, Jenny felt the world crushing down on her. The silence in the house was unbearable, the overwhelming memories took all the oxygen in the air and she could hardly breathe.  
She'd had flashbacks before, some of them had been good, some had caused pain, but none of them had stayed that long, ambitious trying to drive her crazy.  
It was as if the house had suddenly decided it was time to get her out. Like in these horror movies she never watched, because they frightened her too much. She knew none of them were real, but still … there was something, a force, trying to get her out, and before Jenny had even realized what she was doing, she was already in her car, the boxes with Noemi's Christmas dinner and a bottle of bourbon on the passenger seat.

Twenty minutes later she parked her car in front of the only place she knew she would feel safe tonight.  
Without hesitation she made her way to the kitchen and opened the basement door. She had no doubt that Jethro would be down there, and she should be right.

"What are you doing here, Jen?" She heard his familiar voice before she'd even set foot on the first step.  
"Once an agent, always an agent?" She asked, walking down. "How did you know it was me and not someone else?"  
"No one would visit me on Christmas Eve and wear heels. Santa has boots."  
"Are you sure?" Jenny asked, walking over to him. She smiled, but the thought of Jethro spending Christmas alone and no one cared hurt her almost as much as the memories that had chased her out of her house.  
"Ducky came by a few times," Jethro answered. "But after I'd told him I was fine, he gave up, eventually. What's this?"  
"Noemi's dinner. You know … meat, vegetables ... the usual stuff people eat on Christmas Eve."  
"And why aren't you eating it, instead of taking it on a walk around Washington?" Jethro asked, smirking. He'd spotted the bottle of bourbon and was already looking around for glasses.  
"I don't know," Jenny said, taking an old jam jar he offered her. "I wasn't in the mood to spend Christmas alone and -"  
"So you decided to come here? Why?"  
"I don't know, Jethro. Because. I … I don't know. I thought you could use some company. But I can leave, if that's what you want ..." Handing him the glass back, she turned around, ready to leave.  
She didn't make it far. Suddenly, Jethro grabbed her arm, firmly and soft at the same time, forcing her to stop.

"Stay."

Jenny wasn't sure, if her mind was playing tricks on her. His voice had been nothing more than a whisper, but when she turned around, meeting his blue eyes, she knew she'd been right. There was pain in his eyes and something she'd last seen years ago, when they'd been more than just partners. Passion. Desire … maybe love?  
"Don't go," he said, stepping forward until he was standing right in front of her. "You were right," he whispered.  
"Right? With what?"  
"Everything …" Jethro smiled and his eyes wandered from hers down to her mouth and up again.

Jenny had no idea what 'everything' meant, and if it included also all these times they'd fought about things they'd disagreed on, but she was too distracted to ask. She was having a hard time focusing on simple things like breathing and keeping her balance. Jethro's gaze had always had this effect on her, but she'd learned to deal with it. With him. Tonight, this was different, too, and before she even knew it, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer until their lips touched.

This kiss, their first kiss in what felt like a lifetime, was sweet, passionate, and everything she'd secretly dreamed of all these years. She'd known that she had no right to ever be kissed by him again, and she'd thought of this as a good thing to avoid making things more complicated than they already were. But when their lips touched, all these reservations were gone and with them all her fears and worries.  
Jethro always had this special skill to turn her world into paradise; if only for a moment. She'd missed that, but it wasn't until later, when she was lying in his arms, that she realized what she'd really missed all these years, and how stupid she'd been to give all this up for a career and a revenge she wasn't even sure she would get.  
She knew that there was a morning after tonight, when they might regret what had just happened. But that was something she could deal with then. Not tonight. Tonight, she was allowed to be happy, and nothing was going to change this.  
It was Christmas night; a special night for special miracles to happen …

"Jen?" Jethro asked, his voice sleepy, but Jenny could still sense the same happiness in it she was feeling.  
"Hm?"  
"What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

… and who said there could only be one special night?

**- The End -**


	16. Every Ending is also a New Beginning

**TITLE:** Every Ending is also a New Beginning**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE: **Gen**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **2225**  
SUMMARY: **After Jethro quits/retires everyone has to deal with the loss, and at some point Jenny realizes that maybe everything happens for a reason ... Written for prompt #15 "Time waits for no man" for lj's 24_times**  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. Hiatus Aftermath - mild spoiler for season 4 (incl. the La Grenouille storyline)**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.**  
NOTE:** This was actually the epilogue of my NaNo story (Jen's diary), but it can pretty much stand alone and since I promised to translate part of it ... Here it is ;)

~*~*~*~*

It's been four weeks now since Jethro had left my office, after the explosion on the Cape Fear in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that killed hundreds of sailors and marines.  
It's been four weeks now since anyone had heard from him, and it's needless to say that we are all quite worried.

This morning I received a letter that is now lying right in front of me on my desk, stamped somewhere in Mexico and addressed to me. There is no return address and I can imagine why - because the writer of this letter likes not be found. The handwriting, however, I recognized immediately and I know that this letter is from Jethro. It is addressed to the director of NCIS, to Jennifer Shepard - not to my home address in Georgetown, not to Jenny Shepard ... no, it is an official letter, and although I secretly wish I would find something different in it, I know for sure this letter is nothing more than his resignation; an official letter telling his employer that he wants to retire - just as he had announced it four weeks ago when he told me that he truly understands Mike Franks and that he no longer considers his resignation as cowardly as he did when Franks had first quit his job all these years ago to move to Mexico to spend his pension on living at the beach, doing nothing but drinking beer or visiting the cantina.  
I think - no, I know - that Jethro has imitated him, by joining him at that beach somewhere in Mexico. I had known it before he had even left my office to say goodbye to his team, but by the time I was still hoping it was just in impulse reaction, an aftershock to what we had to learn minutes before: that individual human beings were less important to certain governments (our own government, to be more precise) than reputation, fame and money, and that it nowadays seems to be common procedure for politicians to decide that covering up something would be much easier than to work a bit harder to make a difference.

When the Cape Fear blew into the air right in front of our eyes, killing all these men and women, I was almost ready to quit myself. All these iniquity and incompetence was too much for me to handle, especially after all what had happened that week, after all that I had to learn during these events myself.  
I can fully understand that Jethro, who had been through so much more than all of us - both, physically and emotionally - had felt the same impulse, and he had probably more reason to run than I had. I'm sure he had tortured himself with feeling guilty for his memory loss, for remembering too late; maybe he even felt ashamed and doubted his abilities - although this is, of course, simply nonsense. There is no better agent than Jethro and his departure is nothing but a big loss for all of us; for his team, for his friends, for the agency … and also for me.  
Not a day passes that I don't leave my office, walking over to MTAC or the elevator and looking down, expecting to see a familiar silver-haired and blue-eyed man. And every time I'm disappointed when he isn't there and the only one I see is Tony sitting at Jethro's desk.  
After Jethro had left, leaving him in charge of the team, it was Tony's right to move to this desk that usually belongs to the team's leader. It was only fair to let Tony switch places, and I'm sure it was maybe also the only possible way to hold the team together.  
There were some tough times and some moments when I was almost convinced it wouldn't work and we would have to split the team up and assign the agents to other departments. It seems as if Jethro had been the strong link that had hold the team together; like a strong pole that keeps all elements in place, increasing the most effect of each single one, combining them to one strong force, and now that this pole was gone, there was only chaos left that needed some adjustment to restore the order.

Today, we are at a point where we can say that the order is back in place and (almost) everything is working again; but we still aren't back to where we were a month ago, and I'm almost sure that we won't ever be able to go back completely.  
Unless, of course, Jethro comes back, and even then I'm not sure if we can start over again as if nothing had happened. Because too much has happened and we have learned too much about him that I still have to deal with. There was a family he had kept from us all. There are not only three ex-wives, but four, and a daughter he had lost far too early in a cruel way no-one should ever experience. And he had never told anyone about this. He had kept this as a secret for all these years, after all that had happened, after all we had gone though, he never told us; not even Ducky, who considers himself as Jethro's oldest friend, had a clue.  
How could we deny this or go back to business as usual?  
Now, that I know about the hell he went through I see things much clearer, and I can even spot the signs that had been there the whole time, unrecognized for everyone but still there; his way to deal with children, his seclusion, his mood swings, his silence, the many marriages … he must have tried to replace Shannon with other women, and every time when he had realized that this wasn't possible, he had tried to escape only to end up the arms of the next redhead, just to make the same mistake again.  
I'm not even sure if I wasn't just one of these experiments; a way to find a replacement for Shannon. Thinking about it now hurts and makes me sad. All these years I was convinced that what we had had back in Europe was something special but now I'm not so sure anymore, and the decision I made in Paris, to chose my career over him … it doesn't feel quite so mean and unfair anymore as it had felt seven years ago.

But maybe I'm wrong; maybe I see things too pessimistic - as I do it most of the time these days - but the certainty that I may never learn the truth about his feelings for me or the intentions he had in Europe, aren't much help to think more optimistic.  
I would love to ask Jethro and talk to him about what is killing me on the inside but even that would probably never happen, since he is gone and I don't know if it's wise to call him and ask him (maybe even beg him) to come back home. And that letter … well, I still haven't opened it but since I'm sure what is inside I know the content of this letter won't increase the chances to ever talk to him again.  
As much as I have hated every single time he had ignored my closed door by rushing right into my office, a cup of coffee in his hand, to talk to me, to argue or to ask for a favor, I now wish he would do it again, giving me the chance to ask him all these question that burn a hole in my soul, letting me miss him even more than ever.  
They say you only know what you had when it's gone … Whoever said this was right. But then again … I don't actually know anymore what it was I really had and what I only imagined having.

But still … the world hasn't stopped that day four weeks ago and we - somehow - lived on.  
It's funny how distance can change your way of thinking and how you prioritize things. The distance to Jethro is only limited to physical distance, because there isn't a day I don't think of him, but this physical distance still results in some chances. Slowly, I start planning a life without him, instead of hoping he would come back any second.  
The show must go on. With or without him.  
Making Tony the team leader was a fist step to move on, bringing Michelle Lee in, was a second. Professionally, we are ready to continue without Jethro (although not as effectively as we were with him).  
Personally, I try hard to bring some sense back into my life, instead of hoping there will be a day when Jethro suddenly stands at my door, telling me he wants me back. For a while (maybe even the last twelve month and although I had known deep inside that a relationship with him would make things only more complicated than they already were) I had hoped he would give me another chance to make things right, forgive me the mistakes I had made when I had left him but now I'm ready to believe that things between us would never work out - even if he wanted to give it a try.  
I still want him back in my life but I'm also ready to exist without him. I can live and survive without the feeling that with every breathe I take I'm dying a bit more on the inside.

Todd Gelfand and I started dating and I really enjoy his company. We have so many things to talk about and Todd even makes me laugh. When I'm with him I can forgot all the pain, all the suffering I'm going through - at least for a while. He is not Jethro and he will never be him - and I'm not even sure if we will have a future together - but for now he is a good company and he provides me with the necessary balance between my work and the other two options I would have to spent my evenings: working or sitting at home, alone. I don't know if we will ever do something more than having dinner together or talking on the phone, going to the opera or visiting museums but for now that's enough for me.  
I don't want anything more.  
A relationship would only complicate everything and distract me too much from what lies ahead of me, both professionally and privately. Thanks to new information I got a few days ago, I now know that I am a big step closer to my goal, and I can feel that the day when I can finally take revenge for my father's death is coming closer with every second that passes by.  
It won't be long before everything that has happened the last ten years, will finally make sense.  
Slowly, the pieces of my work are falling into place, and with every single piece everything becomes clearer and clearer, until the puzzle will finally be complete and all the colors, patterns and fragments will create one big picture I will be able to enjoy, satisfied and proud of what I have achieved.  
Until then, there is still some work to do, some effort to make, and it may even take a while to reach my goal; there may be moments of doubt and I may even reach a point where I question myself if everything was worth the risks but I know that this won't let me give up. I will keep moving until I'm at the point where I can finally harvest the fruits of my past.

Seeing things from this point, ensure me that it is a good thing (maybe even the best thing that could have happened to me) that I can walk this path alone, without someone like Jethro at my side, who knows me so well like no-one else does. He would probably look over my shoulder all the time, trying to stop me by acting as my conscience or playing devil's advocate to talk me out of my personal vendetta, and leaving me with fighting a battle on multiple fronts.

Perhaps everything that happened, happened for a reason, and maybe it had to happen just as it happened to work out in the end; my decision in Paris, my return to Washington DC a year ago, the problems I first had (with Jethro) when I became director, the Explosion on the Kamir, the incompetence my fellow directors showed afterwards, Jethro's retirement, the new information I received a few days ago ... almost everything had caused us much pain, and I wish I would have saved us some of it, but I think that's just life, and all of it had to happen in the end to prepare me (or us) for what is going to happen next.  
There are no such things as coincidences and everything happens for a reason.  
Once I had realized this, it was easier to breathe again, to function, or simply to wake up every morning and survive the days and weeks despite the loss we are suffering from.

There is a reason that life gave us all these lemons ... I think it's about time to use them to make some sweet lemonade.

**- The End -**


	17. Storybook Ending

**TITLE:** Storybook Ending**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER:** Jenny Shepard, Trent Kort**  
GENRE:** Gen, Angst, General, episode tag for 5.14 "Internal Affairs"**  
RATING:** PG-13**  
WORD COUNT:** 5,062**  
WARNING:** Spoiler for Season 5**  
SUMMARY:** After the investigation by the FBI was over, Jenny was once again the last one working late that night. But she is not the only one left in the building ... – Written for prompt #02 "The Best Time" for lj's 24_times.**  
NOTES:** Not beta'd (I have to admit that I felt a lot like Ziva while writing this *sighs*) and written because marciafan asked for it. She forced me to write it and she was so kind to allow me to use Jenny's shaking hands ;) Thank you, hon!!**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

_"The Frog is dead and the Jesters  
have been kicked out of the kingdom."  
"And the queen is back on her throne."  
(5.14 "Internal Affairs")_

~*~*~*~*~

It was already dark outside, but Jenny was still in the office, behind the desk she'd almost lost today to Leon Vance. She could still feel his presence, the toothpick he'd left her, was lying on the floor next to her right food, staring at her like a silent warning that this office would one day become the office of someone else, and maybe that day would arrive much sooner than everyone were all expecting; everyone except for Jenny herself, who knew that her time as director of NCIS was ending soon, but that didn't mean she was ready to go. Truth was, she was far from being ready, and this was the main reason she was still here, trying to finish some paperwork, instead of being at home, resting.

The day had been exhausting and nerve-wracking and she was long beyond the point where she would just close her eyes and sleep for at least ten hours. And yet, she knew she wouldn't find any sleep tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week… Maybe never again.  
The fairytale ending Jethro had talked about earlier was there and she should feel relieved. But she didn't. No one had found out that she had killed La Grenouille and still she felt scared and more insecure than she had ever felt before in her life; or since she'd become director.

La Grenouille was dead. She had taken revenge for her father's death. Everything she had worked for this last decade had finally paid off, but she still felt the burden on her shoulder like nothing had changed at all.  
She should be relieved. She should celebrate her new freedom and move on, spending the rest of the life she had left as happy as possible. She was free to think about nothing else but things that made her happy; no looking back, no more what-if scenarios, just enjoying whatever life was going to give her. This day, a few months ago, was supposed to be the best day of her life; the day, her life would change again. After her obsession that had nearly killed her, she was supposed to start living again, enjoying what should be the best time of her life.

The frog was dead. The queen was back on her throne. Her empire was still in place ... That was the fairytale ending, she got today - not necessarily deserved but still ...

Why was she feeling anything but free? Why couldn't she just celebrate and enjoy her freedom? Why was she still here in the office, her office, working late hours like she had done before? What was she waiting for?  
Her new life was supposed to start today, but couldn't she just allow it? Of course, she had asked to take a few days off to take care of some unfinished stuff, but this personnel time was going to start tomorrow, not today. Today, she had still some work to do here in the office. She didn't want to leave everything for Vance. Of course, it would be convenient, but that just wasn't her style. Besides, she didn't trust Vance enough to let him take care of everything, allowing him to ruin all she'd worked for all these years, within a few days. Not that it would matter in the end when her time was finally up ... but still. It just felt wrong to leave him all these case files she had to review and the reports she still had to finish.  
On the other hand … why was she caring at all? Why was she still here, when, in the end, it didn't really matter? Where was the point in spending more time here? Vance would do whatever he wanted to do, and there wasn't anything she could do about it, and it was like she had told Abby only a few days ago: Sometimes you have to look at the reality in front of you and accept it.  
Her reality was that she was leaving - only for a few days for now, but leaving. Vance would take over as acting director and he would chance things; some of them may be good, some might not. But all chances would have his name on it. He would take the credit for everything and he would have to deal with the consequences. He alone. It was time that she accepted this, and while she was doing this, she needed to accept that it was also time for her to let go of some things she'd gotten used to - old habits, friends, family, things she loved … and her work. Giving up these things wouldn't be easy, but she had to do it as long as she still had the control about the 'How's' and 'When's'; and she had to start somewhere. Why not with work?

Sighing, Jenny closed the open case file she had tried to read these past minutes. Then she picked her coat and her bag, and left her office.  
Cynthia's desk was deserted and so was the bullpen - except for some agents from the night shift and one of the cleaning guys, whose name Jenny never managed to recall when he greeted her on her way out. She always felt bad about it when this happened, and every time that happened she made a mental to try to find out his name. But this banality was always quickly forgotten as soon as she'd left the building, and was never remembered again until the next time she saw him.

But this was going to change. Today. Her plan to start a new life included also changing some things for the better. Not things as hiring assistants for people who didn't want them, or a dress code that made others uncomfortable. No, she wanted to start with changing small things; like knowing the names of everyone working for her, or doing something nice for her employees, every once in a while. Sometimes, so she had learnt, the smallest things made the biggest difference. And learning names wasn't a big deal at all.

Being in a much better mood now, after making this resolution, Jenny walked down the stairs to take the elevator in the bullpen. Secretly, she was hoping to run into Jethro to talk to him. They hadn't spoken since he'd left her office hours ago and although he hadn't left after a fight (or in the middle of an argument) as it had happened too often in the past, she hadn't felt good about the way their conversation had ended, all evening. She needed to talk to him, to explain him some of the things, she was sure of he'd already figured out by himself, and she knew she would probably never do it if not tonight.  
But Jethro was nowhere to be seen and the only one crossing her path was the cleaning guy without a name.

"Good evening, ma'am," he greeted her, smiling, and before Jenny had the chance to greet him back and ask for his name, she was distracted by a tall shadow on her right.  
Instinctively, she reached for her hip where she used to carry her gun, back when she had been an agent, but stopped halfway as soon as her mind had caught up with her agent instincts, telling her that she wasn't carrying, since she no longer was a field agent, but the director of an armed agency. And since she was still inside a secured building with enough security surrounding her, carrying a weapon was unnecessary.

"Jenny?" A tale man followed a deep, arrogant voice with a familiar sounding British accent out of the shadow and Jenny frowned. Of all people she could've met on her way out Trent Kort was the least she'd expected to see tonight, and she wasn't sure if he was someone she liked to talk to tonight - or ever again.  
She had no proof that Kort or the CIA had played her. She wasn't sure if Kort had helped La Grenouille to mess with her head, by pretending his father was still alive. But she knew for sure that it was Kort who had sent her to Colonel-General Borov in Moscow. Borov had been part of the game from the beginning. La Grenouille – or the CIA - had paid him to confirm that her father was still alive. She hadn't believed it by the time she was in the hospital, and a small part of her still hoped that her father was alive but she was pretty much convinced by now that her father was dead, murdered by the man she'd shot a few month ago.  
And yet, she had no idea why the CIA had done everything to drive her mad.  
Was it because the CIA wanted La Grenouille dead? As Benoit had told her that night in her study, when he'd asked her for protection? Was it because the CIA wanted her to be fired for incompetence? But why? What had she ever done to them? Okay, she wasn't the easiest person to deal with during their weekly director meetings - aka 'her kind of tea parties' - and she secretly suspected the director of the CIA of being an even bigger chauvinist than Jethro was. But all these were no reasons to try to kick her out; not by doing something like they'd done to her these past months … only to end up saving her ass later by admitting that La Grenouille had been killed by someone from the agency; by Trent Kort himself as Jethro had told her earlier.

Of course, the CIA doesn't assassin people within the state borders but it wasn't a big secret to anybody that they had done this before - although they were protected by special laws that got them these shiny 'get out of jail cards' whenever necessary. Jenny herself was glad that some laws were subject to interpretation, and maybe even the fact that some were made that way, had saved her ass tonight, but every interpretion should have its boundary. Otherwise, everyone - especially those with legislative powers - would do whatever they wanted and normal, innocent people would be harmed by the lack of protection; and that couldn't be the purpose of laws in the first place.  
Not that La Grenouille was an innocent man ... He had deserved to die, and Jenny had made sure he would. She had no regrets (and those that were haunting her at nights became easy to ignore by every day that went by) but she wasn't so sure about this whole thing in general; how someone working for the government could avoid prison for killing a human being, while others got the death penalty.  
And why had the CIA done everything to protect her, to clear her name to keep her out of prison (the CIA agents had their 'get out of jail' cards by default but Jenny wasn't sure she would ever get one for her personal agenda)? What had she done to deserve this?  
Because they felt sorry for messing with her? Because they still needed her for something else? And maybe everything was only part of something bigger, something huge, she would never learn about? And was it even the CIA who had helped her today or was it Kort's work alone?

Whatever the reason was, it was yet to be discovered, and meeting Kort here, in this moment, was maybe the opportunity to find out what she'd ever done to be treated that way. This thought gave Jenny some hope to get out of her misery but at the same time she still wasn't sure if talking to Kort was a wise thing to do – after all that had happened, after everything she'd done for her personal agenda ...

"Are you going to shoot me, director?" Kort asked, his voice amused but when he stepped out of the dark there was not the slightest smile on his face or anything else showing her he was enjoying this moment. In fact, he looked like a dog that had just been kicked out the door; beaten up, his left eye swollen and the blood on his white shirt and his tie suggested that his nose had been bleeding, too.  
Jenny almost felt sorry for him but at the same time she was happy that Tony had done what she had wished for doing herself, ever since Kort had dared to kiss her cheek in Paris. She still got chills when she recalled that moment in her car, and even now she could feel his lips on her cheek, his breath on her skin, and she could remember the smell of his aftershave and the body heat he'd left her with, after he'd gotten out of the car.  
Back then, she'd been enchanted by his appearance, overwhelmed by the feelings he'd prompted, and confused by the help he had offered her. All this wasn't doing any good to the struggle she'd had with the decision either to follow protocol and stay in Paris or to get rid of her protection detail, drive to the airport and fly to Moscow. In the end her curiosity and the urge to get new information that would bring her closer to La Grenouille had won the fight; but she would've felt a lot less insecure if he hadn't been so close to her before.

Over the past months she'd pushed back all these emotions and memories, and there were even moments when La Grenouille, his death, Trent Kort, the CIA and everything else weren't part of her life every second or holding sway over her thoughts. But she'd never completely forgotten the way his lips had felt, his aftershave had smelled or how his closeness had appealed to all of her senses.  
Seeing him now, brought back some of the emotions Jenny had fought so successfully, but there was also something else; something that kept Jenny from turning around and running away as fast as she could. It wasn't guilt or the feeling she had to thank him for covering for her today. It was more the feeling that she owed him something, especially when he was looking so miserable, after Tony had taken his revenge earlier with Ziva as his witness.  
But there was no way Jenny would ever admit that she felt sorry for Kort or thankful for saving her; after all he had been part of the whole conspiracy that had almost provided her with a place in a mental institution.  
But still… she couldn't just turn around, pretending today had never happened. Plus, she still wanted some answers and explanations.  
So she stayed.

"I'm not carrying my weapon," Jenny said instead of ignoring Kort as she'd planned to in the first place.  
"Oh, that's right. You gave it to a mutual friend of ours and -"  
"What do you want?" Jenny interrupted him, sharply, when the conversation moved in a direction she didn't want to discuss here, where everyone could listen. She looked around, hoping someone would come to her rescue - just in case she would need it - but there was no one there; not even Ricky (she suddenly remembered the cleaning guy's name) was within reach - although Jenny doubted he and his mop would be much help. But she still didn't want to talk about La Grenouille in the middle of the bullpen - with or without witnesses ...  
"If you are looking for a job, you should call Mrs. Garcia in the morning," she said, trying to chance the subject. "She's the head of our HR department. But I doubt she would have anything vacant for an old buddy of an international arms dealer and murderer."  
"I'm not looking for a job, Jenny," Kort answered, making a step forward, until he was standing right in front of her. Jenny instinctively moved backwards until her heels hit the wall.  
She was breathing heavily now, and her hands were shaking.  
Closing her eyes for a second, she hoped this wasn't one of her 'episodes' she was occasionally experiencing lately, when she hadn't taken her meds in time. She couldn't remember when she'd last taken her pills but the chances that she had forgotten to take them all day were high. Normally, she tried to take them within the strict timetable Ducky had worked out for her, but after everything that had happened today, her mind was nowhere near her illness or the things she was fighting the symptoms with.

Clenching her fists, she opened her eyes again, only to see that Kort had moved a few inches away from her, watching her carefully.  
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. "You look a bit -"  
"I'm fine," Jenny answered. "But that's none of your business. What do you want? Are you stalking me now? Is this the second act of 'Let's play with the Lady Director'?" Giving him a look Jethro would be jealous of, she started to turn around to walk to the elevator. But Kort grabbed her arm, holding her back.  
"This isn't an ambush, Jenny," he said, his voice dead serious. Jenny stopped and looked at him. The urge to shake off his hand was still there but was faded in the background by the sound of his voice.  
"Actually, I didn't know you were still here," he continued. "I was ... I got on the wrong side of a few people tonight and I can't go -"  
"You're seeking asylum?"  
"No. I don't need protection. I can take care of myself."  
"I'm sure you can," Jenny mumbled, finally shaking off his hand. "Although, you look like someone crushed you down today."  
"I deserved it," Kort answered, a weak smile on his lips. "DiNozzo was angry and frustrated. He needed a punching bag and I was there."  
"Always the hero ..." Jenny snorted sarcastically. "Do you want a medal? Or what is it that you want? Because whatever it is ... you won't get it from me."  
"I don't want anything from you, Jenny. But maybe we could ... talk?"  
"Talk?" Jenny asked, although talking was exactly what she'd had in mind only a few second ago when she had first spotted Kort. "About what? Why you helped ruining my life by playing me? Why you kept my hopes up that my father was still alive? Why you broke into my house? Why you changed your mind tonight and covered for me and my agency?"  
"For example… And because I feel you deserve some answers."  
Jenny laughed. "I deserve some answers? Really? Why? Because I managed to survived your games by staying alive and sane? Go to hell!"

Again, Jenny turned around and walked to the elevator.  
This time, Kort didn't try to stop her by grabbing her arm but he followed her into the elevator just when the doors were about to close. He reached for the switch to stop the elevator but Jenny was faster. She grabbed his hand, twisted his arm behind his back and pressed him against the wall. Kort winced silently, when his already injured nose hit the cold and hard metal wall.  
"Stop playing games with me, Kort," she said in a low voice. "I may look like a weak woman to you but I am not. I can take care of myself and I have friends. Powerful friends you can only dream of. One call from me and you can start looking for a new career." Jenny wasn't so sure anymore that she still had these friends or could ask them for their help but right now that couldn't matter less. She had made her statement clear and Kort seemed to have understood that he couldn't play games with her anymore. Feeling him tremble slightly, she loosened her grip and stepped back to lean against the opposite wall.  
Her hands were shaking again and she was almost scared of herself and of what she was capable off. Kort's feeling seemed to be of a similar type. He had turned around, touching his now bleeding nose, while looking at her like she'd just grown a second head.

"I never doubted your capabilities of taking care of yourself, Jennifer," he said. "I've read your profile long before I became aware of your … special interest in La Grenouille."  
"Good for you," Jenny mumbled, still trying to hide (or stop) her shaking hands. This elevator was way too crowded with Kort and his big ego in it, and she was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic; or maybe that was just a side effect of the unhealthy combination of not eating today and forgetting to take her medication. Or it was both. Or nothing of these things at all.  
But whatever it was ... Jenny wasn't feeling better when the elevator finally reached the first floor.  
"I am not your enemy, Jenny," Kort said softly. He was on his knees now, trying to collect the content of Jenny's bag she had dropped while physically attacking Kort. His nose was still bleeding and he was trying to stop it with his already ruined tie.  
Seeing him so hurt by her action and still helping her with her stuff, being nice and all gentleman, made Jenny feel miserable and guilty, and she kneeled down to help him.

"I'm sorry I hurt your nose," she said, her voice quietly when they had finally collected the last part - a red lipstick she had been looking for all week.  
Still on their knees and way too close they looked at each other for a long moment. For the first time, Jenny noticed how kind and warm Kort's dark eyes were, and for second she could see behind the bastard, the cold-blooded agent he always pretended to be, and she couldn't help but smile. It was only a weak smile and a short one, too, but she could see the effect this smile had on him. He seemed to relax and the smile he gave her in return was so open and true that Jenny later would take that smile as part of the reason for what happened next.  
Suddenly, her whole body was trembling. The bag dropped on the floor again, spilling its contest all over the elevator floor, while she lost control over her body and crashed against Kort. He instinctively reached out, trying to steady her, but he hadn't enough strength to keep his balance and hold them both.  
Together they fell against the wall. Kort hit his back against the wall and since he was still holding Jenny in his arms, she landed halfway on top of him. After a moment full of shock and disbelief Kort suddenly started to laugh, and Jenny couldn't help but joining in only seconds later, laughing like she hadn't done it in a long time with tears running down her cheeks. It was as if this laughter was relieving her of the burden she'd carried around with her for ages. It felt good and Jenny had the feeling that she would never be able to stop laughing again, and it was only when she was starting to run out of oxygen that she stopped, suddenly aware of where she was and who she was with.  
The elevator doors were blocked by her black leather scrapbook and the annoying sound the doors made by opening and closing over and over again every second was the only noise she could hear, after Kort had stopped laughing too; except for her own heartbeat and the blood rushing in her ears. Kort looked at her, afraid of what she would do next, and only the sparkle in his eyes proofed that Jenny hadn't just dreamt she had been screaming with laughter only seconds before.  
Jenny swallowed hard but didn't move an inch to bring some space between them as it would have been appropriate. She wanted to but she was still too shocked and confused to react, while thousand questions were running through her mind and she had no answer for a single one of them.

What was she doing here? Why was he in the elevator with him? Why had she allowed him to follow her, to touch her, to save her? Out of everyone in the world who could have followed her tonight, it had to be him … But why didn't she bother that it was Trent Kort who had seen her in a weak moment? And why had this moment felt so good like almost nothing she had experienced in a long time? Why didn't she feel ashamed of what had just happened? Or embarrassed, for that matter?  
Okay, she felt a bit embarrassed and she could almost feel herself blushing, but – as strange as it was - this was a good feeling, and she felt anything but ashamed of this moment like she normally would have.  
It was only when her mind finally started working again and the realization kicked in that Jenny started to feel more than only a bit ashamed. Suddenly, the director took over again, pushing Jenny, the woman, aside for a while.  
She moved away from Kort and started to collect her stuff for a second time, only to end up sitting on the floor again, her trembling hands buried in her lap. This time, the tears on her cheek weren't caused by laughter but by the increasing anger inside of her. She was angry at herself for allowing Kort to be here, to see her like this; angry at him because he was still here, trying to take care of him; angry at him because no matter what she did he stayed; and angry at herself for being moved to tears by his caring.

"I ... we should go," she said, after a long moment they had spend silently.  
Trying to avoid Kort's intense look he was giving her, she propped herself up on her palm to get up but stopped halfway to reach for the tissue packet in her bag instead. "You … we should take care of your nose."  
"Don't," Kort said softly, carefully placing his hand over hers. "I'm fine. But that's none of your business." Jenny smiled when she noticed that he had used exactly same words she had used earlier.  
"You are bleeding," she said. "Let me take care of it." She had no idea how she would do this with her hands still being unsteady but she should never find out. Taking the tissues from her, Kort shook his head.  
"There is no way I will ever let you near my nose again, Jenny," he said. "You need a licence for this grasp. Where did you get this from?" "From dealing with chauvinists like you," Jenny said, grinning half-hearted. She was starting to relax again, thankful that Kort didn't ask about her trembling that had caused this little incident they'd both laughed about. She didn't need his questions right now, and she really wasn't in the mood to come up with some lame excuses he might (or might not) believe or use against her, once this moment was over and they were back to hating each other.

"I guess there is nothing wrong for men being chauvinists, then." Kort grinned and helped her back on her feed with his left hand, while he tried to clean the blood on his chin with the tissue in his right - without much success, but Jenny bit her tongue to keep from offering him her help again.  
"I told you I wasn't a weak woman and that I can take care of myself," she said instead.  
"And after your attack I won't ever doubt you again," he replied smiling. "Come on, I'll drive you home." He picked up the rest of her things and led her out of the elevator, still not saying anything about the moments she'd proved to him that she wasn't as strong as she tried to make everyone believe, and for that Jenny was even more thankful than for his hand in her back, steadying her, while he led her out of the building and into the parking lot.

She still wasn't sure how to feel about Trent Kort in general, about his behaviour, his arguments or the way he was trying to take care of her tonight, and she was far from forgiving him what he'd done to her these past months (although, saving her today and being there for her had already brought him one step closer to the possibility that one day she would actually be able to forgive him). But she was glad that he was there, willing to drive her home, since there was no way she would be able to drive herself tonight.  
She cursed silently that she had send Melvin home earlier because she felt he needed to spend more time with his family instead of wasting it by waiting all evening for her to drive her home. She would have needed Melvin tonight but now she had Kort, and Jenny had to admit that she was really starting to enjoy his attention.

It seemed as if she was getting her real storybook ending after all (without the ever after part, of course) tonight. She just wasn't sure what role Kort played in it: Her Knight in Shining Armour, Prince Charming or only one of the jesters she and Jethro's team had successfully kicked out of the kingdom hours before. But truth was she didn't really care. He was here for her. She wasn't alone. That was all that mattered for now. And his presence made her evening feel a lot more like part of the best time of the life she was supposed to have ever since the frog had died, and maybe she would even get some answers to understand what had happened tonight and why it had happened, what the purpose of this meeting was and where it would led her. There was no such thing as a coincidence, and everything happened for a reason - and if only for the reason that she shouldn't spend the evening alone.  
Was this a Fairytale ending? Maybe not - but it felt a lot like the best time of her life was finally starting.

**- The End -**


	18. Sweet dreams and secret desire

**TITLE:** Sweet dreams and secret desire**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard (implied Jenny/Trent Kort)**  
GENRE: **Gen**  
RATING: **PG-13**  
WORD COUNT: **300**  
SUMMARY: **There are dreams you just don't want to wake up from ... Written for prompt #17 "Day Time" for lj's 24_times**.  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. Maybe the closest thing to "smut" I will ever write ;)**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

The room is still dark when she wakes up from what feels like the most relaxing sleep she's had in a long time. Eyes still closed, she listens to the steady breathing beside her and she smiles, when memories of the night before started to replay in her head.  
Skin on skin. Hot kisses scattered all over their bodies. Sweet whispers in the dark. Hands caressing soft flesh … unexpected but welcomed. New and yet familiar.  
The emotions send hot and cold shivers down her spine and she reaches out to touch the man, sleep next to her. Moving closer to him, she places soft kisses on his neck and -

"Director, MTAC called. They - ... Are you alright?" Cynthia put her head in at the door, looking worried and curious at the same time.  
Jenny blinked, trying to focus on her surroundings, but she was still stuck in the dream she had just woken up from; a dream that had started as usual with old memories of happier times. But then it had turned into something different; unexpected, and anything but disturbing. But now that she was awake again, Jenny wasn't so sure anymore about the last part.  
"Director?"  
"I'm okay, Cynthia," Jenny lied, faking a reassuring smile. "I was absent-minded for a moment, caught in ... Don't worry."  
From the look on her assistant's face, Jenny could tell that Cynthia hadn't believed a word she'd said, but thanks to a long and respectful work relationship, Cynthia was smart enough not to question anything Jenny ever said.  
"SecNav is waiting for you."  
"Thank you, Cynthia," Jenny said. "I'll be there in a minute."

As the door closed behind her assistant, Jenny leaned back on her chair, trying to recall the moment she'd actually stopped caring about Trent Kort visiting her in her dreams.

**- The End -**


	19. All about Paris

**TITLE:** All about Paris**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard/Trent Kort**  
GENRE: **Drama, Romance**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **8064**  
SUMMARY: **Jenny and Paris ... a relationship that has always been complicated in the past, but when she decides to go back, one last time, everything suddenly changes ... Written for prompt #23 " In Time " for lj's 24_times **  
WARNINGS: **Spoiler for season 5! English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. My colleague helped me with the Japanese. I hope he deserved my trust :)**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.**  
NOTE:** It's been a while that I was in Paris (and only once). I tried to recreate the city from what I remembered and with the help of google - I'm sorry for any mistakes I may have made. And a big thank you to marciafan for encouraging me the last two days while I was writing this story, losing my mind at times. This is for her (and all Trenny lovers out there)!

_"How can you be in Paris  
and not climb the Eiffel Tower?"  
(Abby in 4.24 "Angel of Death")_

~*~*~*~*

We will always have Paris ...  
Jenny had always loved that line and when she'd first seen "Casablanca", as a child, she'd started to dream of the moment when she would hear this line from the man she truly and deeply loved (or - as an alternative - would tell him this).  
Up until today, this had never happened, and when Jenny finally reached the lift that would bring her up to the Eiffel Tower, she was almost certain that she would die without ever experiencing the feeling Rick and Ilsa had shared during that moment, when they had made Paris their city to remember; a memory to hold on to - for the rest of their lives.

Paris held some memories Jenny would never forget and as much as she'd tried to love this city, the memories that made her sad outnumbered the ones that made her smile.  
Of course, she had spend some great moments full of passion and love here, nine years ago, when she'd been working with Jethro, but this was also the place where she'd left him behind to start the next chapter of her career; leaving him with nothing but a letter, and herself with guilt and regret that had turned the first months afterwards into her own personal hell. She had made one of the biggest mistakes of her life back than and here, and should she ever get the chance to change one moment of her life, turning right instead of left, she would most likely choose this one. Of course, she knew this would never happen, but still ... that decision she'd made here, nine years ago, was on top of her "Why I don't like Paris" list.  
But it wasn't the first time Paris had disappointed her, and maybe the week, she'd spend here with her parents more than thirty years ago, doing nothing but watching French TV in their hotel room while her parents were busy doing their jobs, was the main reason why Jenny had so many disappointing memories of this city, and maybe her childhood experience was also the main reason, why she was here today, giving the city another chance to make up for every pain it had caused her in the past.  
Back then, her parents had promised her a week she wouldn't forget, and as organized as Jenny had been even as a child, she had made this long list of places she wanted to visit, only to end up with getting a short glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from her airplane window, and the Louvre passing by on their way to the hotel. They had never made it to Notre Dame, they never saw the Mona Lisa, and they never climbed the Eiffel Tower.

Later, when she'd been here with Jethro, she had asked - and almost begged him to take one day off and do what tourist usually do, when they are in Paris. But the more she'd asked, the more excuses Jethro had come up with to not go, and in the end Jenny had just given up.  
A few years later, she'd been back in Paris with Ziva. But also then they hadn't found the time for sightseeing.  
Last year, however, Jenny had made room for her day off, last year she had been closer to every treasure Paris was offering than ever before, and yet she hadn't made it. The Interpol Conference was supposed to end on Wednesday Evening but she'd asked Cynthia to book her a flight on Friday. Thursday was supposed to be her day off; a day she wanted to spend on her own, discovering the city on her own, giving Paris another chance to make up for everything.  
Unfortunately, she'd spend the day in Moscow, listening to lies a dying man had told her. By the time, Kort had recommended her to fly to Russia and she had been ready to trade Moscow for Paris without hesitation; now she wasn't so sure anymore if it was the best she could've had done. Of course, it had brought her one step closer to La Grenouille, and in the end she'd gotten her revenge for her father's death, but this flight to Moscow had been nothing more but another piece of La Grenouille's games, and from today's point of view, this visit had been nothing but a waste of time; time she could've spend instead with other things she would have enjoyed.  
Like climbing the Eiffel tower ...

It was sad that you always start to learn to appreciate something when it's almost too late. For Jenny everything was almost too late already. She was running out of time, no one knew how much time she's left, and when Ducky had told her it was unlikely that she would celebrate her next birthday, despair had crippled her for a couple of days. But after the first shock was over, she'd started to feel guilty for everything she'd done wrong and deep regret for everything she hadn't done yet (and most likely would never be able to catch up on).  
She'd spend the first weeks wallowing in self-pity until one morning when she'd woken up, realizing that she was still making the same mistakes, over and over again by wasting even the few days she'd left, regretting all the things she hadn't done in her past.

That morning had became the first day of the rest of her life, and she'd finally started living again. As odd as it may sound, but that moment had offered her a new perspective on life and on what was really important to her. She had stopped living in her past and had instead focused on the future. She had no longer tried to change what she couldn't change. She had accepted the life in front of her and had started to make the best out of it.  
It still wasn't always easy but in the end it would all be worth it.  
She had made up for some of her mistakes, she'd spend some time on doing things she really enjoyed doing (or missed doing while she'd been too focused on her career). Life had started to make sense again, and this vacation, this journey, the time she'd taken off from work, was the best thing that could've happened to her.  
As expected, she'd made another list, another five-point plan of things she wanted to do as long as she was still able to do them, but with the difference that this time it was a flexible list; flexible enough for some detour or additional points, and she'd already made some changes whenever necessary. Visiting Paris for the last time, climbing the Eiffel Tower was the last point on her list before she would fly home to Washington DC on Sunday to start working again.

Unfortunately, she hadn't considered that it was the first warm week after a long and cold winter and Paris was crowded with tourists from all over the world.  
The line in front of the Eiffel Tower was endless, and Jenny had almost given up before she could finally enter the lift that would bring her - and, as it felt, a few hundred tourists - up to the top floor. Jenny moved out of the way when a family of five tried to enter the already crowded passenger area, making space for the little boy and his cuddly green dinosaur that was almost as big as his little sister who was happily smiling and save sitting on her father's hip.  
Watching the happy family, Jenny couldn't help but smile - although it was a sad smile, filled with regret and sorrow that she'd never had any children. She knew that kids also meant a lot of stress and sacrifices, but she'd also learned that one look into a young kid's eyes totally made up for all this. The short time she'd spend with Carson a few months ago had shown her that being a mum wasn't less fulfilling than having a career. And sometimes it was even possible to have both ... Now, it was too late to have own kids and all she could do was enjoying the ones she met on the street and showing them with a smile that she liked them, and when they returned the smile - like the baby girl did -, the warm feeling rising up in Jenny's body, dispelled every piece of regret or sadness inside of her.

It didn't take long until the lift reached the top level of the Eiffel tower, the highest place of Paris, tourists were allowed to visit. Although this spring day was warmer than usual, the wind up here was still chilly and Jenny wished she'd taken her warm coat with her instead of the beige windbreaker she was now wearing. Shivering, she pulled her jacket tighter, and she was just about to walk over to the barrier to get a better look, when her phone rang.

Later, she would remember that moment as the one that saved her day, by finally turning Paris into a city to remember, but right now, it was just an embarrassing and awkward moment that attracted too much attention.  
Sighing, Jenny fumbled in her bag but it took her a while to found her cell phone and answer the call. From the corner of her eyes she noticed an older woman shaking her head in disgust, while she talked to the man next to her - obviously her husband - explaining him how annoying cell phones were (since these seemed to be German tourists they spoke German and Jenny couldn't understand every word of the conversation but she noticed with a smile that Germans indeed used the word 'handy' instead of 'cell phone'. It was true that cell phones were 'handy' but in her case ... it took her way too long to find it, and her phone was definitely not within reach (or handy).

"Shepard," she answered, when she finally managed to get the phone out of her bag. She didn't bother checking the caller ID - the ring tone was still way to annoying and it had already caught too much attention of too many people around her. She just hoped it wasn't work related or someone telling her Leon had demolished the agency by setting everything on fire to destroy all evidence (after killing Jethro and his team) – or the other way around with Vance as a victim of her favorite team of agents.  
"Enjoying the view?" a hoarse voice, Jenny didn't recognize immediately, asked. Alarmed, Jenny turned around, trying to get a close look on everyone with her on the platform. But the area was too crowded already and when the next lift stopped, releasing even more people, the chaos was perfect.  
Slowly, Jenny moved to her left until she stood with her back against a wall, still trying to figure out how was calling and why he knew where she was. She cursed herself for not taking any protection with her, and although her life was almost over, she still had no intention to get herself killed or – what would have been even worse – get kidnapped again.  
"Who are you?" she asked, still nervously looking around. "How do you - Wait ... Trent Kort?"  
"Good guess, director."  
"What do you want?" Jenny asked in a harsh voice.  
"Still no foreplay?" Kort's voice sounded amused instead.  
"Still no time."  
Kort chuckled. "So American ..."  
Jenny smiled, remembering the similar conversation they'd had one year ago in this city, but her voice was still cold when she asked, "How do you know that I'm in Paris?" She hadn't forgotten what he'd done to her last year, by playing La Grenouille's games. She knew most of it had been part of his cover and she would've maybe done the same in his position, but still ... she was sure that he'd also followed his own agenda and some things he had done out of pure enjoyment.  
"Remember who I work for?" Kort replied. The amusement in his voice was starting to annoy Jenny and she wished she hadn't answered the call.  
"Does the CIA have nothing better to do than following the director of a sister agency?" she asked, realizing too late how close this maybe was to the truth and that this was exactly what had happened the last time she'd been in Paris; and after the investigation just a few days ago, everything was possible.  
Kort must have senses her mood change because it took him a while, before he spoke again, his voice calm and serious now.  
"I'm not on duty," he said, "and this call is made from my private phone."  
"So you're on vacation?" Jenny asked. She was finally starting to relax again. She still suspected Kort and she had no idea why he called, but at least he was less of a threat than some psycho trying to shot or abduct her.

Jenny walked away from the wall she'd been leaning against, trying to find a free spot in the crowd to finally take a look at Paris from above. Kort's voice in her ear might lessen her enjoyment a bit, but that was something she could only change by hanging up on him - something she didn't want to either, since she secretly loved his deep British accent.  
"Let's just say, I'm between two jobs at the moment," he told her and Jenny was about to ask him if there was no arms dealer in need of a personal assistant when he said something that surprised her even more than his call. "I was thinking if ... if you'd like to have a cup of coffee sometime." Jenny wasn't sure, but there a hint of uncertainty in his voice or not, but it made her insecure herself, and it caused her to stop again.  
Looking at a young couple in front of her, she tried to take a deep breathe to calm down. Without much success.  
Has Kort just invited her on date? Or was just coffee. Why? Why did he want to have coffee with her? Was this still all part of his game; long planned, even before she had made sure his assignment with La Grenouille was over? Or was he trying to make up for everything he'd done to her? And if so ... why with coffee? Coffee was a bit cheap compared to all the suffering he'd caused her.  
But then again ... coffee was more than she'd ever expected from. And then there was also this thing he'd done for her a few weeks ago when he'd covered for her to end an investigation against her and her whole agency ...  
Still busy trying to figure out where his motives were, she realized too late that she was already accepting his invitation.  
"Coffee sounds good," she said. "When? Where?"  
"How about ... here? And now?" Suddenly, there was a cup of hot, steaming coffee hovering in front of her, only held by a strong hand of a man in a black coat and with a smile on his face that shocked Jenny even more than his sudden appearing out of nowhere.  
He had his cell phone still on his ear and he continued talking to the phone, she, on the other hand, had almost dropped hers by surprise.  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you stalking me?"  
"Hello to you, too, Jenny," Kort said, completely calm. "It's nice to see you, too. Coffee?"  
"Thanks," Jenny said. Still stunned, she took the coffee from him and almost burned her fingers. "How the hell did you manage to smuggle hot coffee up here? I waited more than two hours to only enter the lift."  
"I have my connections." Kort shrugged. He put his cell phone back in one of the large pockets of his coat, and then placed his hand on the Jenny's back, leading her a few steps to their right, away from the large group of a dozen tourists, every single one of them eagerly trying to get the best place at the railing or one of the telescopes that were installed on every side of the platform.  
Jenny didn't protest and she even took a sip of coffee, without feeling guilty for taking advantage of his kindness. It was still hot but Jenny drank it anyway. She'd always loved hot coffee – especially when she was freezing; and the wind up here was starting to turn the nice sunny morning into a chill April day.

They spend a few minutes in silence, leaning against the railing far away from the loud and noisy tourist groups. While enjoying the hot beverage in her hand, Jenny tried to figure out what made a visit up here so special. The city beyond them was hidden under smoke and dust and she could hardly see anything. No wonder, she thought, that only tourist ever come up her, while all Parisians stay at home, laughing at the stupid foreigner who spend there money on a building that had almost been torn apart shortly after it was built.  
"You look like you're freezing, Jenny," Kort said, looking concerned at Jenny who was indeed shivering. She hadn't noticed how cold she felt, and even afterwards she couldn't tell if the goosebumps that covered her arms and her back then, were caused by the chilly air or by her company. Maybe from both ...

"Here, take my coat," Kort said and before Jenny even had the chance to protest, he had removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders. Jenny could feel his body heat through the soft material and she closed her eyes, sighing, feeling more comfortable already.  
"Thank you." Jenny smiled, deeply grateful for this gesture. Turning around, she propped her back against the railing, fixing Kort with her green eyes. "So, tell me ... do you usually go sightseeing when you are between two jobs or are you here because you did follow me?"  
"What do you prefer?" Kort asked, grinning. He moved a bit closer to Jenny and when she didn't back away he also made the last step and leaned his hip against the railing right next to her.  
"I don't know."  
"What if it is the latter?"  
"I don't know," Jenny repeated, and this was the truth. She really didn't know how to feel about his presence. She knew it wasn't a coincidence that she met him here, but she still wasn't sure about the motives for his caring and the smile he continued giving her. It made her nervous. He made her nervous. The uncertainty made her nervous. And she didn't like being nervous.  
"So you are stalking me? Why?"  
"I'm not." Kort shock his head. "I called your office the other day and your assistant ..."  
"Cynthia."  
"Right, Cynthia ... she told me you were on vacation. She wouldn't tell me where you were and how long you'd be gone, but I made a few calls, calling in some favors. I found out where you were staying and that you were alone." He paused, looking at her. "Where's good old Hector? Isn't the director of NCIS supposed to be under protection 24-7?"  
"Having a vacation paid by the tax payer's money?" Jenny asked amused. "I don't think so. I had some company, when I was in Nice, but ..."  
"You escaped?"  
"Exactly." Jenny sighed. She turned her head to watch a group of Japanese tourists leaving the lift, spreading in every direction, while she tried to understand what Kort had just told her. He was here because of her. He had followed her to Paris. Again. And he wasn't even trying to deny it ...  
"You're risking much, Jenny," Kort said in a tone that made her feel like she was a little girl again, getting a lecture from her father.  
"I can take care of myself," she answered, a bit too stubborn for her taste. But as soon as she'd spoken these words, it was too late to take them back and she had to live with the grin Kort gave her.  
"I'm sure you can," he said. "But I'm also sure you have a right to be protected."  
"I don't think this is any of your business, Mr. Kort."  
"Oh, we are back to Mister and Director then?" Kort asked. There was still amusement in his voice that forced Jenny to playfully hit his chest with her fist, before she even had the chance to keep herself from doing it. Doing something and thinking about it afterwards, seemed to happen a lot to her lately, and she couldn't say that this knowledge about it was comforting. She secretly blamed Kort for it and hitting him was only the punishment he deserved. Sort of ...  
"Ouch! What was that for?"  
"For being such a smart-ass," Jenny replied, grinning. She turned around again, facing the skyline of Paris that was still hidden by smoke and mist. She started to wonder why so many people (including herself) spend money to see ... well, nothing at all. But maybe that was just one of these things you just had to do when visiting Paris. And why was she even thinking about something as unimportant as this was, when the bigger - and more important - secret was standing right next to her?  
Maybe because it was easier to deal with things that concern everyone than with something that was her problem alone; or maybe it wasn't her problem at all - or should be any longer. Maybe she should just give him his coat back, thank him for the coffee and go. Why bothering spending time with someone you don't really like when there is still so much to do and not enough time left?  
The only problem was that Jenny really started to like Kort's company and she had to admit that standing here with him was so much better than making this experience alone and having no one to talk about it ... well, whatever there was to talk about with a view like this.

Jenny signed and took another sip of coffee. This was starting to get way too complicated and her thoughts were starting to confuse her. Maybe she should really leave.

"I know what day today is," Kort said, quietly, just the second when Jenny had made her decision to leave. But instead of getting rid of this really warm and comfortable coat whose tempting smell made her dizzy, she stopped halfway, confused and surprised by his words.  
"What do you mean?" she asked, although she already had an idea what was coming next.  
She herself had done everything to not think of her father's death - his murder that had happened thirteen years ago today. But as usual it hadn't worked and there wasn't a moment she hadn't thought of him. Of course, being in Paris and having all these memories - good and bad - was not helping to repress unwelcome thoughts either, but now that Kort had mentioned it (he hadn't really mentioned it yet, but she was pretty sure what he meant) everything was back and it hurt almost as bad as it had when La Grenouille had still been alive, reminding him every day what he'd done to her and what she wanted to do to him.  
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Jenny said but this time she kept eye contact instead of turning around or walking away. She wasn't as strong anymore as she pretended to be, but she was good in pretending and what had worked all these years should still work. Of that she was sure ... until she met Kort's eyes and noticed how kind they were, full of emotions she'd never thought he would have. It felt as if he was looking right through her - a privilege normally belonging to Jethro -, ignoring the mask she'd put on to protect her own feelings. She felt naked under his look, but she kept eye contact, even when he placed both of hands on her shoulder, keeping her at place.  
"You know what I am talking about, Jenny," he said, his voice still quiet and caring. "You don't need to pretend otherwise. I know what happened today thirteen years ago and I know how you feel. You don't need to keep this to yourself."  
"You know nothing," Jenny said, her voice hoarse. "You have no idea how it is to loose someone ... someone ... you ..."  
"... someone you looked up to? Someone you loved more than anything else in this world? I know, Jenny. I know how it feels when the world is crushing down on you because someone tries to tell you that everything you've believed it was a lie. Believe me, I know."  
"I don't know what you are talking about." Jenny tried to free herself from his tight grip but with every move she made his grip tightened even more. But he never hurt her. His hands were strong but at the same time his touch was careful, gently and she knew she just needed to try a bit harder and he would let go off her. To her own surprise, she never felt the urge to fight harder. Instead she gave up, relaxing in his arms, when he pulled her closer.

"It's okay, Jenny." He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her, carefully and shy at first, as if he was afraid of her or her reaction, but when she didn't protest, he pulled her closer, until her head was resting at his shoulder.  
He just stood there, holding her and gently caressing her back.  
Jenny could feel his body heat, smell his aftershave, and for a long moment she forgot - or ignored - everything around her and even who the man was, who was holding her. She stopped thinking, she stopped feeling bad for breaking down in front of him. She stopped hating him for everything he'd done to her last year, and she finally started to accept that she owed him so much for saving her only a few weeks ago. She had no idea how he did this and why he was suddenly on her side, but she had the feeling that whatever had brought him to do it, was also responsible for his presence today. It scared her and she was more than just a bit confused by the different emotions fighting inside of her. But she was also tired of thinking and of searching for reasons that may - or may not - be there. Maybe Jethro's theory was wrong, and there were such things as coincidences ... maybe it all had to happen. Maybe whatever had caused everything that had happened in the past, had happened just to bring her - them - here. Together.  
Or maybe she was finally starting to lose her mind. Maybe she was already crazy. Insane.  
Was this a side-effect of the pills she was taking? Or was it just another weak moment she would feel sorry for later?

Slowly and as polite as even possible Jenny made a step backwards until she could look at him again.  
"Thank you, I guess ...," she mumbled, hiding behind the cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand. Part of her wanted to ask him, why he was so sure he knew how it felt to lose someone close, but the other part, the major part of her, was afraid to hear the answer or - in the worse case - of being snubbed. She was curious, though, and the feeling he was ready to give her an answer grew with every second the kept looking at him, but before she had the chance to ask, they were disrupted by one of the Japanese tourists, who was suddenly standing in front of them, but keeping a polite distance.  
"Sumimasen. Excuse ... me," the man asked, bowing non-stop and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Sumimasen. Shashin o totte mo desu ka? You want me ... take picture?" Still looking at Kort he pointed first at Jenny's digital camera, she had tied around her wrist (and totally forgot), than at her and Kort. "Kamera?"  
It took Jenny a moment to understand what the man with this ridiculous looking orange cap that couldn't even cover half of his gray hair wanted from them and when she'd finally made sense of it, Kort had already taken care of everything. Unnoticed by her, he'd handed her camera to the man, who was now giving them instructions in a mix of English and Japanese words to move closer and more to the right (at least, that's what Jenny guessed he was doing) and before she even realized what had happened the camera was back in her hand.  
"Domo arigato, Mamuro-san," Kort said, hinting at a bow.  
"Dou Itashi Mashite," the Japanese man (Mamuro-san) replied and bowed again, a satisfied smile on his face. "Sayounara, Miss. Mister ..." He bowed one last time in Jenny's direction, before turning around to return to his group, leaving a stunned and confused Jenny behind.

She had no idea that this Japanese guy made his appearance not only for her right in time, but also for Kort, who had already started to regret for opening up to Jenny so much, trying to assure her that he knew exactly how it was to lose a father, who had been a role model all of his life. He trusted Jenny somehow (even though they didn't know each other that well) and this trust had been the reason, why he'd said something in the first place, but he wasn't ready to tell her everything; not yet – and maybe even never. He liked to keep things to himself – especially private things that were his business alone, and breaking his own rule had been more disturbing for him than anything else. But he was good at hiding his feelings, and Jenny never realized that his politeness towards the Japanese man was rather based on his relief not to need to answer inconvenient questions, than caused by the kindness the Japanese man had shown by offering to take a picture of them.  
"What ... what was that about?" Jenny asked, when they were alone again and she noticed the satisfied look in Kort's face.  
"What do you mean? He wanted to take a picture of us. That's all. No danger." Kort shrugged, his expression blank as if everything was normal and if nothing unusual had happened. "I think he believed we were a couple." Noticing the shock in Jenny's eyes, Kort grinned. "But I'm not sure if 'tsuma' really means wife or something else."  
"Yes, but ... I had no idea you speak Japanese. Where did you learn this? Is this part of your ... training?"  
"Oh, I don't speak Japanese. Just enough to order the right things at a Japanese restaurant. That's all. Shall we?" He asked, offering Jenny his arm and since she was still confused and distracted, she took it without thinking twice about this gesture. Jenny was sure that the main part of the conversation he'd just had with the Japanese man was something you don't learn when you order sushi in a restaurant., but she also felt that she had no right to ask – or if she did, she wouldn't get a satisfied answer. So, she kept quiet and just nodded.  
In the end it was none of her business, anyway.

Kort led her to the lift and it wasn't until they were back on the ground, walking down the Champ to Mars that Jenny spoke again.  
"You are full of surprises, Trent," she said, using his forename for the first time. But she really meant it and it scared her a bit that, in this case, her judgment was mainly based on her former experiences with Jethro. Jethro would have killed that friendly man with his stare or scared him to death with some unfriendly spoken words. Maybe Jethro even would have ignored him and his offer until Jenny was too embarrassed to apologize for his behavior. And he also would have made clear that Jenny and he weren't a couple - even back when they had been together, he would have lied about it in front of strangers and Jenny couldn't blame him for this. They had started as colleagues, moved on to being partners and ended up being lovers, while on duty. Nothing about their relationship had been normal, and maybe they weren't even a couple in the usual sense. Maybe it wouldn't be a lie at all. But still ... Jethro's reaction would have been quite the opposite of what she had just experienced with Kort.  
Kort had done none of these things. He had been kind and friendly, without showing a sign of discomfort or irritation. In fact, he was really sweet and so different from the man she'd got to know one year ago, that Jenny wasn't even sure if it was really him and not his twin brother ,she had no idea even existed.

"What's wrong, Jenny?" Kort asked, noticing Jenny's disbelief when she didn't answer, and he obviously even sensed her insecurity and discomfort. But instead of leaving her alone or giving her some space, he placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, while they walked slowly towards the Seine.  
"You really shouldn't be alone out here," Kort finally said, breaking the silence, when Jenny didn't answer his question. He nodded towards a group of dubious looking guys sitting on a bench and making jokes at passing tourists. Jenny had noticed them, too, and although she wouldn't want to be alone with even one of them at night, in a dark alley, she wasn't afraid of them. She knew she would be able to deal with them, should they start to threaten her. And she was sure, Kort knew it, too. He wasn't concerned about her safety that may be jeopardized by some strangers. No, these guys were just an excuse to pick up where they'd left before the Japanese man had taken their picture, and although she was still curious about the hints he'd given her, Jenny wasn't ready for that talk at all.  
But she also was tired of arguing or trying to convince Kort that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She just wanted to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere this city was suddenly exuding. For the first time in weeks, ever since she'd started to make the best of her current situation, she felt calm, and like she was coming home. She had the feeling Kort had something to do with it and it still scared her (or it scared her even more, now that she was ready to admit that she was glad he was here) that he was doing this to her, but she had also learned to be thankful for everything life was giving her these days, and she had stopped questioning it a long time ago.  
Life was just too short to waste precious time thinking too much or trying to change things that couldn't be changed; and Kort wouldn't leave - even when she tried to push him away, he would stay. He had made that pretty clear to her earlier.

Without making plans or really talking about what they were doing, they spent the rest of they day with sightseeing; visiting all the places, Jenny wanted to see for so long. They went to the Louvre, admired the Mona Lisa, they visited Montmartre and the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, they enjoyed the sunny weather while walking through the Tuileries Garden, and when it was starting to get dark, they sat down in front of a small café on the Champs-Élysées, enjoying the beautiful view on the Arc de Triomphe and the people passing by.  
The whole time they had talked about anything and anyone but their feelings or the reasons why they were both here. Jenny had talked about her work, the experiences she'd made as the first female director of an armed federal agency, and Kort had shared some anecdote about his work with the CIA. Neither one of them mentioned La Grenouille or the circumstances of his death, Operation Lodestone and everything else that had brought them together one year ago. Not talking about these things was like another pact they'd agreed to tacitly.

"So, you and Agent Gibbs were here before?" Kort asked, after the waiter had brought them their coffee. "Undercover. On a secret mission."  
Jenny nodded without looking up. Jethro and their past were things she couldn't talk about as easily as other things, especially when there was this arrogant undertone in Kort's voice, suggesting his disapprove of Jethro. She knew this tone all too well and it still forced her to justify everything she'd done and everything she and Jethro had shared - and still shared.  
"We were partners. He was my boss. Until ... until I left, choosing my career instead of returning with him to DC" she explained after a while, when Kort hadn't stopped staring at her, waiting for an answer.  
"And now you are his boss. I'm sure he didn't like that very much."  
"No, he didn't." Jenny smiled, remembering the hard time Jethro had given her during her first year and how hard dealing with him still was - although it had been easier lately, and she felt Jethro had finally started to accept her as director and as his boss.  
"He couldn't accept that I traded my field work for politics and a boring desk job. But I think we are good now. Yes, we really are," she added, when Kort gave her a funny look. "Jethro ... Gibbs isn't as bad as you think. He is a good agent and a loyal partner. He has his issues, but everyone does. And once you get to know him, you start to like him."  
"What if I don't want to like him?" Kort asked, looking at Jenny over the rim of his coffee cup. "What if I don't need to like him?"  
"Why wouldn't you want to do this?" Jenny asked, confused by the sudden seriousness in his voice. "Do you want to hate him?"  
"No." Kort lowered his cup and he reached out to touch Jenny's hand. "I just think that ... that after today he might have a serious problem with me."  
"And why is that?" Jenny asked, fighting the urge to pull her hand back. But his touch felt so good and right and she was still captivated by his eyes that she wasn't able to think properly, yet to react in any other way but the keep her hand where it was, covered by his, while his thumb gently stroke over the back of her hand.  
"Because I really like you, Jenny," Kort replied quietly, taking Jenny totally by surprise. For a minute she just stared at him, not sure if she had understood what he'd said. Finally, she took a deep breathe, hoping it would calm her down, but her voice was still trembling when she spoke.  
"You ... is that why you are here?"  
"I told you why I was here, Jenny. That was the truth."  
"But ..."  
"No 'but'," he interrupted her, squeezing her hand, before he pulled his hand back, concentrating again on his coffee.  
Jenny didn't know what to say or do. For the first time in a long while she was speechless and even more confused than she'd been ever since Kort had called her today. It wasn't that she hated what he'd just told her. She liked the Kort she was able to get to know today and she felt flattered by his confession - every women would -; but she had no idea what he expected her to say or do, or what he was hoping for. She was dying. She had no time for whatever relationship he was looking for; besides, that their past made thing even more complicated than the things she shared with Jethro.  
"I ... I don't know what to say," she finally managed to stumbled, helpless and without really knowing what to say. But at the same time she felt she had to say something. For the first time the silence between felt really awkward and made her uncomfortable.  
"You don't have to say anything, Jenny. And I don't expect you to do anything. I just wanted you to know that ..." He signed. "I know I hurt you in the past. And I know I don't deserve anything but hate from you. I really was a bastard and it would be a lie to say that everything was just part of my assignment. It wasn't. I'm truly sorry for what I've done, and I would take it back if that would be possible. I'm not a good man, Jenny, and I know you deserve so much more, so much better. But ..." He stopped, taking a deep breathe, and this time it was Jenny who reached out to take his hand. Kort smiled. "What I wanted to say is ... in our jobs ... with what we do ... we know how short life can be and how suddenly death knocks at our doors. I have made this mistake in my past and I don't want to make it again. As I said ... I don't expect anything from you, and I can understand that you hate me for what I've done to you. I just ..."  
"I don't hate you," Jenny whispered. "I ... I don't know what I do feel right now, but I don't hate you."  
"You don't?"  
Jenny shook her head, giving him a faint smile. "No, I don't. I did, but not anymore. The past is the past, and you can't change it, no matter how hard you try. I've learned that and ... Is this why you saved me last month when the FBI was investigating me?"  
"No," Kort said, grinning. He squeezed Jenny's hand. Leaning back on his chair, he crossed his arms in front of him. "That was because I can't stand Fornell. And because I don't like people who confuse toothpicks with chewing gums, thinking it would make them one of the cool kids."  
Jenny laughed, relieved that they managed to change the subject and focus on something other than the confession he'd just made. This subject wasn't over yet, and she wanted to continued this conversation at one point - also to ask him what mistake he'd made in his past he didn't want to make again - but for the moment it was better to talk about something else. He wanted it, and she wanted it, too. And when Vance was the subject ... well, she could live with that.  
"You should tell Vance that," she suggested, still laughing. "I don't think he knows how ridiculous he looks with this toothpick."  
"Maybe I will do this; next week, when we are back in DC."  
"We?" Jenny asked, before she could stop herself, changing the subject again - and sooner as she'd hoped for.  
"Yes. My flight back is not until Sunday. Paris isn't a city for just one day. There's so much to discover. One day just can't be enough." He was looking at her with such intense in his eyes that Jenny wasn't sure if he was still talking about the city or about something else, and to her surprise, she secretly wished it was something else - her - he was talking about, and not Paris.  
"Then I guess you ... we should take our time," she said, quietly, losing herself ones again in his dark eyes. She had no idea what was going on and how he was doing whatever he was doing to her. All she knew was that she couldn't wait to leave this café again - with him - to continue whatever they were about to do someplace else. And as if he'd read her mind, Kort was already waving down the waiter, and they left the café as soon as they'd paid, almost in a hurry.  
As soon as they were back on the street, walking towards the Arc de Triomphe, Jenny took Kort's hand in hers, as if this was the most normal thing to do, making him smile. Although it was already getting dark, it was still warm and despite the pollution the city smelled like spring, giving her the feeling that someone was about to start; a new beginning of something wonderful. Jenny knew that whatever would begin tonight, wouldn't last long, but as someone wiser once said: "Every song ends but that's no reason not to enjoy the music."  
And the music she was listening to right now was one of the most beautiful melodies she'd ever heard ...

When they reached Jenny's hotel (too soon for Jenny's taste), they slowed down and then stopped in front of the entrance, both unsure what to do next. Jenny couldn't find the courage to ask him to come in, and it seemed that Kort wasn't so sure about his next step either.  
Most of the way back to the hotel, they'd spend in silence, both of them dealing with what had happened today, trying to figure out where this was leading them. Jenny still had this overwhelming feeling that everything that had happened today was just a dream or something unreal; too good to be true. And still, it felt like something she had been waiting for far too long; something that just wasn't supposed to happen sooner. One last chance to be happy; one last chance to make things right ...  
She'd always hoped it would be Jethro she would have that chance with, but after all that had happened between them, Jethro and her was almost impossible. But that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't allowed to be happy again, ever. It had never meant this - it had only taken her so long to see and accept it, and she was glad that realization had hit her right in time. Whatever power had Kort brought her here, it was a good one; one she would have to thank later, too.

"Thank you for looking after me," Jenny said, when the silence between them was starting to become unbearable again.  
"You're welcome, Jenny. It was a great day," Kort replied, smiling shyly like a small boy. It looked so funny and so out of character that Jenny almost laughed. But only almost ... she managed to stay calm and smiled instead.  
"It was," she said, looking deep into his eyes; taking in as much as she could before everything would be over again and she would wake up - alone, as usual.  
Or maybe she wouldn't. Maybe his silence, his insecurity, was just another task life was challenging her with, and all she had to do was accepting the challenge. And why not? Why was she still hesitating? She had nothing to loose ... but so much to win.  
What was she waiting for?

"So ... about that foreplay you keep missing -," she started, but was silenced by Kort who hasten to put a finger on her lips.  
"I thought you'd never ask ..." he whispered. Smiling, he step closer until he was standing right in front of her, his body softly pressing against her. Slowly but more certain than seconds before, he replaced his finger with his lips, kissing her gently at first, and when she didn't pull back, his hand moved to the back of her head, keeping her in place, while he pressed his mouth to hers. She responded without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. Deepening his kiss, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, teasing her until she opened her mouth, willingly, to let him in.  
Closing her eyes, Jenny stopped thinking for the second time today, allowing herself to feel nothing else but his touch, his kiss, and his warm body pressed against her. For a long moment nothing else mattered; nothing that was more important than doing what was best for her.  
She was done fighting. She was done making compromises or sacrifices. She was tired of restraining herself just because it might have consequences.  
Tonight was what mattered tonight. And with everything else she would deal tomorrow; not today, not tonight. And no matter what tonight would cost her, she'd already won the top prize; a price no one would ever take away from her, from them, because after today they would always have Paris ...

**- The End -**


	20. Doubt

**TITLE:** Doubt**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE: **Gen, General, episode tag for 4.24 "Angel of Death"**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **100**  
SUMMARY: **Jenny knows someone is playing her, but there's also some hope left she can't suppress ... Written for prompt #13 "Time is an Illusion" for lj's 24_times.**  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd.**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.

~*~*~*~*

_"He stood where you stand three weeks ago."_

You know this is a lie.  
And still ... these words raised hope you know you shouldn't hold on to.

_"My father's been dead since '95."_

You know this is the truth. You know your father's dead; killed by the man you hate more than anything else in this world.  
And still ... the bottle is there, bringing back memories of the man you love more than anything else in this world.  
You know everything's just a lie, a game you will end soon.  
None of this is true.

But what if you're wrong?

**- The End -**


	21. Once a hero

**TITLE:** Once a hero**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE: **Gen, Drama, pre-series**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **1000**  
SUMMARY: **When Jenny learned that her father had killed himself, she knew something was wrong and that his death was only another part of a game that had started a long time ago ... Written for prompt #03 "The worst time" for lj's 24_times**  
WARNINGS: **slightly spoilerish for 5.01. English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd.**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different. Violet Shepard is mine, though.**  
NOTE:** I know that the dream sequence in 5.01 suggested another scenario but I can't see Jenny still living with her parents when her father died. So I changed it ;)

_" You believe the story that my father took a  
bribe while overseeing an arms reduction treaty?"  
(Jenny in 5.01 "Bury your dead")_

~*~*~*~*

"Jennifer? Here's your mother." Violet's voice was steady and her tone professional as always, but Jenny knew that something was terribly wrong. The call itself at that late hour was evidence enough for that; besides that her mother hardly ever called - especially since their last argument.  
"What's wrong?" Jenny asked, although she knew she probably wouldn't want to hear the answer. Somehow, she'd known all day that something would happen, she wasn't going to like.  
"It's your father ... He shot himself," Violet answered and before she had the chance to give her more information, Jenny had already ended the call and was on her way to her car.  
When Jenny pulled the car over, only ten minutes later, parking it right behind one of the police cars, she could still hear her mother's words in her head.  
He shot himself ...

There was so much wrong with these three words that Jenny had no idea where to start to proof it.  
Her father didn't shot himself. He would never do that. Why would he? He'd been fine when they'd met earlier for lunch. He'd told her about the investigation caused by a bribe he'd been accused of having taken. But this wasn't something that was new. This investigation had started weeks ago and although it was nerve-wracking, he'd been fine.  
Everyone made mistakes, and whoever had started this investigation had made a big one. They would unearth the truth, eventually. And until then they just had to hang in there for a while ... That's what her father had told her, and Jenny had believed him. She knew he was innocent and hadn't done anything wrong. That wasn't his style. He would never betray his country and he hadn't taken money to cover up something illegal.  
That didn't make any sense ...  
Whatever had happened tonight wasn't her father's fault or caused by him. Why would he have acted like he used to then, when they met for their weekly lunch, smiling and cracking jokes?

Her father wasn't suicidal or depressed as Violet was telling a man that had 'Army CID' written all over his uniform, when Jenny entered the house, heading directly to the study, where her father was.  
"What are you doing, Miss?" A young officer stepped into her way. "You can't go in there."  
"I'm his daughter," Jenny said, trying to shake off his hand. "I need to ..."  
"Jennifer?" Her mother's voice was still cool when she reached for Jenny's arm to pull her away from the door. Any outsider would've assumed Violet Shepard was in shock, but Jenny knew better. Her mother was the best actress in the world when it came to hiding real emotions. She would even smile, when something horrible had happened. And that she was smiling now, while her husband's body was in the room next door was proof enough of how good she was.  
Jenny, however, was devastated, crying silent tears, caused by anger, by grief, and by desperation that no one would allow her to see her father.

Without giving Jenny the slightest chance to escape, Violet led her in the kitchen, where she sat down at the table, looking daggers at the cop who dared to sit down on her father's chair. No one was ever allowed to sit there, and Jenny wasn't going to let that change just because her father was dead.  
She knew she was too emotional and acting like a child, but someone had to show some signs of desperation or consternation, and if her mother wasn't the one, she had to do it.  
"This wasn't a suicide," Jenny stated after a short moment of awkward silence, only interrupted by the sound of people leaving and entering the house and someone laughing inappropriate. It took Jenny all her strength – and a warning look from her mother - to remain on her chair.  
"He would never kill himself. It was murder and you know it, mother. Why would he do this?" she asked. Her dad loved her. He adored her. She was his little girl. He would never leave her alone.  
"You haven't seen him, Jennifer," Violet's voice was calm. "He was depressed. He wasn't himself lately. He -"  
"Someone killed him," Jenny repeated, giving her mother a desperate look. "This whole investigation was a farce. Why can't you see it? Are you that blind? Why can't -"  
"Jennifer! Watch your tongue!" Her mother interrupted her. "Your father wasn't the hero you wanted him to be. He took that money and he felt guilty about it. That's why he did it. He was a coward and he left us. Deal with it!"  
"You're wrong. He didn't -"  
"Yes, he did; if you like it or not ... that's the truth."

Jenny shook her head. She couldn't believe what her mother was saying, what she obviously believed. How could she think that her husband would be corrupt? How could she put her husband, her dead husband, in a bad light? Why couldn't she see the truth?  
"You have no idea what that is, do you?" she asked. "This is all part of a game. Someone was trying to destroy dad and when that didn't work he killed him. He'd played everyone and he's still doing it."  
"You don't know what you're talking about, Jennifer," Violet interrupted her, sharply.  
"You are the one who don't know anything, mother. But I will proof that you're wrong." Pushing back the chair, Jenny stormed out of the house, knowing that she would be alone in this, without help, without her mother's support. But she was ready, and the knowledge that this day wasn't just a bad day, but most likely the beginning of the worst time of her life, was only an additional incentive to find whoever killed her father, the only role model she'd ever had in her life.  
She wouldn't stop until she'd found proof that her father was innocent; whatever the cost ... no matter how long it would take ...  
And no one was going to stop her.

**- The End -**


	22. One Night Only

**TITLE:** One Night Only**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard/Trent Kort**  
GENRE: **Het, Romance**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **4450**  
SUMMARY: **Jenny has to attend the most boring party in her life, but rescue is on its way - unexpected but most welcomed. Written for prompt #05 "Time flies" for lj's 24_times **  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. And it may be a bit ooc and/or fluffy. But it's Valentine's Day. It should be allowed ;)**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.**  
NOTE:** Written for all Trenny-shipper/lover out there - and for everyone else. I hope you had/have a great Valentine's Day! (I spend it being thankful for my muse that came to me just when I started to lose hope)

~*~*~*~*

For the tenth time in what felt like an eternity, Jenny asked herself what she'd done to deserve all this, and every time the evil voice in her head (that sounded a lot like Jethro - what made the whole thing even worse) told her that it was all her fault and that it came with the job. As director she had to attend what she was invited to; especially, when it was the birthday party of a fellow director. In this case, the director of the CIA who had turned 65 last week. Obviously, he saw that as a reason to celebrate, instead of getting in hiding until the depression caused by this high age (men were usually all the same, when it came to their ages, as Jenny had experiences multiple times in her live) was over. Director Manning, however, seemed to like his age and he wanted to celebrate, and everyone had to join him.  
"Or maybe he is indeed depressed and this whole party is just an opportunity for him to drag everyone down with him," Jenny mumbled, taking another sip from her champagne.  
It was still the first glass she was holding on to ever since the party had started, two hours ago. These two hours had felt like the longest two hours in her life and it seemed she would be stuck here for another eternity.  
This whole event wasn't just a reception or a brunch, not even a normal dinner, you could excuse yourself from as soon as everyone had finished eating. No, Manning was someone who had to have it all. A ball at the Hilton, caviar, live music, black tie, invitations only, waiters, a full program with speeches and entertainment … just everything. Everyone had brought their spouses, Jenny had brought her security detail. Hector, who was standing in a corner, looked as bored as she felt, but at least he was alone or didn't need to deal with new shoes that were killing him and a long, black dress that had looked good in the boutique but felt way too sexy and saucy ones it was worn in a room full of men. This dress was like a magnet for old, single men (or those who suddenly forgot about their wives) and there hadn't been a minute tonight Jenny could have spend alone, without a man at her side.

"What did you say?" the deputy director of the NSA, James Hauser, asked her. For a moment, Jenny had totally forgotten about the man that was sweating like a pig - and even looked and smelled like one - and she had long stopped listening to whatever he was telling her. She was busy trying to stay awake and not getting too depressed herself - or dying of boredom. Despite of what she always said, she hated these events; especially, when everyone was having fun - or had someone to have fun with - and she only ended up with the most boring and annoying men everyone else was trying to avoid.  
'What on earth have I done to deserve this?', she thought. 'Oh, shout up, Jethro!' she growled quietly, when the annoying voice in her head started to lecture her again that it was all her own fault, because she wanted to play director instead of staying an agent with evenings and weekends off.  
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to give her company the sweetest fake smile possible. "I was just …" Noticing the man's eyes wander to a spot behind her, Jenny stopped, frowning. She didn't really care if she had just successfully done everything to drive this annoying, sweating man back and whatever he was looking at was his reason to excuse himself, but she was curious what had caught his attraction, so she turned around, only to end up staring at a white lily right in front of her eyes.  
"Director Shepard … what a surprise to see you here," a warm voice with a British accent, Jenny recognized all so well, said behind the flower.  
Trent Kort.  
"Mr. Kort," Jenny replied, thinking that when there was someone having the right to be surprised, it was her. She was invited - by default - but a normal CIA Agent, working undercover most of the time, wasn't someone she wouldn't expect to see at an event like this.  
"I … What a pleasure," she continued, smiling, when she realized that his sudden appearance was actually her way out of this conversation with Hauser. And in this way, it wasn't even a lie. Never before in her life, had Jenny been so glad seeing him. She needed someone to rescue her from Hauser, from herself, and from everything else that was, so successfully, trying to kill her tonight. And when it was Kort who was destined to play her lifesaver she would even take him.  
"Excuse us for a second." Kort gave Hauser a look that made clear that his presence was no longer accepted, and Hauser turned around immediately, mumbling some excuses no one was really interested in or listening to.

"So, what are you doing her?" Jenny asked, when they were finally alone.  
"I wanted to give you this," Kort answered, holding up the lily. "I picked it myself."  
"From which table?" Jenny asked, smirking. She looked around, trying to find a table, whose centerpiece was missing a white lily.  
"Does it matter, chéri?" Kort asked, grinning back at her. "I brought you a flower. A normal girl would be delighted."  
"I'm not a normal girl," Jenny replied. "You should know that by now." Smiling and suddenly feeling so much better than only seconds before, she took the lily from him, giving him a thankful smile that should hide how nervous and surprised she actually was by his sudden appearance and by this sweet gesture. It had been a while that someone had brought her flowers, and although it was obvious that Kort had stolen that one from one of the tables, it meant more to her than she would ever admit. "Thank you. That's … very sweet of you."  
"Sweet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "No one calls me sweet. You definitely aren't a normal girl at all." He grinned, offering Jenny his arm. "I thought maybe … you'd like to dance. If your professional obligations will allow it, of course. I have the feeling Mr. Sweaty wasn't that happy to have to leave you alone. Shall I call him back?"  
"Only if you'd like me to kill you later for doing it." Jenny smirked. Without thinking twice, she put the lily in the buttonhole of his tux, surprised by the familiarity she was treating Kort with. It was true, that she was glad to see him, and he was indeed her lifesaver tonight, but he was also someone she normally disliked even more than men like Hauser. But being led by him to the dance floor, inhaling his aftershave that had made her feel dizzy even the first time they'd met in that limousine last year, and then feeling his strong arm around her waist, was so familiar and new at the same time that, for a moment, Jenny stopped thinking. She ignored the new voice in her head, that tried to tell her that this was wrong in so many ways (and that voice sounded again like Jethro), she ignored that she was here on official business and that she shouldn't dance at all; at least not as close as she was doing it right now - let alone when the song the band played was a jive and not a slow dance at all.  
But Jenny didn't care. She was still surprised by Kort's presence, by his kindness, by his appearance and the way he was holding her, and the way he was looking at her like she was some kind of miracle. It made her feel very special, and suddenly she was glad that he was holding her so close. She knew her knees were less trustworthy than the FBI and the CIA together.  
"Are you all right, chéri?" Kort asked, watching her carefully. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."  
"Maybe I have," she answered, smiling. "I really didn't expect to see you here. I didn't know you were invited."  
"Manning is my boss. This is his party. Why shouldn't I be here?"  
"Maybe … because I don't see any other CIA agents?" Jenny suggested. "From what I know, this ball is by invitation only."  
"It is."  
"And yet you are her," she stated, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  
"I didn't want to miss it," Kort replied, smiling innocently, and Jenny had the feeling that he really wasn't invited. She wondered how he managed to get in.  
"You didn't want to miss a boring party? I can't believe you don't have anything interesting to do on a Saturday night. These events are usually boring, but this one is the worst party ever ..."  
"Manning knows how to party." Kort grinned, spinning Jenny around so that she almost tripped over her own feed. "I thought it was time to spice up this tea dance a bit. Do you want to help me?"  
"Do I have a choice?" Jenny asked, laughing.  
"You always have a choice, Jenny. That's the good thing about life. You can always decide what you want to do with your time."  
Jenny nodded. That was true. She had always done what she thought was best for her and when it turned out that she'd made the wrong decision she could only blame herself for it. Having a free will was good and when something went wrong, she alone was the only one responsible for it. She'd always tried to live that way and she liked that Kort seemed to think in a similar way.  
"So, you are here because you wanted to be here?" she asked, after they had spend a moment in silence, moving slowly to the music. "Because spending the night at your director's party is more fun than spending it with your friends. Or with your girlfriend?"  
"I don't have a girlfriend," Kort answered, "and my job doesn't give me much opportunity to stay in touch with friends. I like to be here … with you." His smile vanished and was replaced by a serious look in his eyes. "Did someone tell you that you look gorgeous tonight?" he asked. "That dress is … do you need an extra license to wear it?"  
"No." Jenny shook her head, blushing. For some strange and disturbing reasons she had been relieved to learn that there was no girlfriend waiting for Kort, but she managed not to show it and was glad for the change of subject. "I mean … yes, about a dozen men have told me this tonight. But you are the first one I believe to really mean it. Thank you."  
"Oh, I'm sure the others meant it, too. But maybe … they had other things in mind when they told you."  
"I'm sure they had." Jenny laughed and for the first time tonight she found herself enjoying this party. She was dancing with a man she'd never thought of as a dancer; a man that was funny, kind, not so bad looking either and whose dark eyes were watching her with such intense that Jenny start to felt dizzy again.  
"I didn't know you were such a great dancer, Mr. Kort," she said after a while. "And that tux suits you well."  
"Please … it's Trent," he replied. "Mr. Kort feels so …"  
"Official?"  
"Yes. I'm here for pleasure. And so are you. Or do you want me to call you director? Or ma'am?"  
"Oh, please don't. Jenny is fine, … Trent."  
"Good." Kort smiled and pulled Jenny closer to him, when the music changed again to a slow waltz. "My mother was a professional dancer," he explained. "Ballroom … not what you think. She had her own dance school, and when I was a child I spend most of my time there. She always wanted me to become a professional dancer, too, but that wasn't my thing. I liked to dance and I still do. But the rest, the contests, the dresses, the make-up …" He shrugged. "I don't know … when I was older I wanted to do something else. Something more manly, you know."  
"And so you decided to become an agent?" Jenny asked. "That's a change."  
"My mother could never understand why I chose this career instead of doing what she thought was best for me. I guess I gave her a hard time, but in the end … I think she understood. Although I know that the disappointment never vanished. She tried to hide it, but it was always there; in her looks, in what she said ..."  
"I know this feeling," Jenny said, quietly, surprised how much in common they both had. Her mother had never accepted her career choices and she was still mad at her for what she'd done with her life. At first, Jenny had been disappointed by her mother's way of thinking, but she'd had her father who had always believed in her. That had helped - as long as he'd been around …  
"And what about your father? Was he on your side?"  
"My father? I don't think I have one. It was only my mom and me and some 'uncles' she brought home from time to time. I never learned who my father was, and up until now my mother refuses to tell me his name."  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Jenny said. The way their conversation had gone, made her feel uncomfortable, and she wished she hadn't asked these questions at all - or at least she wished to find something else to talk about; something less personal or more funny. But she couldn't think of anything.  
"You don't need to be sorry, Jenny," he assured her, before she could change the subject. "I'm fine. You know … the things you never had, are often the ones you don't miss at all. I never had a father and I don't know how it is to have one. I'm curious and sometimes I wished I had someone like a father, who would've been proud of me and of what I did. But most of the time, it is fine the way it is. You don't need to be sorry. It isn't your fault, is it?" When Jenny smiled, he smiled back and lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Jenny breathed in deeply and closed her eyes for a second. His touch was warm and gentle, and when she opened her eyes again, he was still looking at her with such intense that Jenny forgot to breathe at all.  
"You asked me, why I was here," he said, quietly. "The answer is easy … because I didn't want to miss the opportunity to see this … you. In that dress."  
Jenny felt warm and cold at the same time and she just couldn't stop looking at him, keep getting lost in his dark eyes. She forgot where she was, why she was here, who else was here, who could see her, who might talk about her and what she was doing ... For a long moment, her world for reduced to Kort, his eyes, his touch, his warm body pressed against hers and the warm feeling rising inside her.  
She had no idea what this all meant or where it would lead her - them, eventually. She'd never spend a second thought on Kort, other than cursing him for doing his job and interfering with her own work. She'd never met him 'off the job' and she'd never intended to. Until a few minutes ago when he and the lily had saved her from dying of boredom, when she'd started to see him as someone else, when she'd started to learn that he was so much more than the unpleasant CIA agent she'd dealt with before. Of course, he still was the unpleasant CIA agent and he would always be the one who'd tried to kill Tony, who'd messed with her and her sanity, who'd send her to Moscow to listen to lies that only rose new hope she shouldn't have. But Kort was so much more than that, and Jenny started to picture him as someone she could actually see spending time with - outside the office and in private.

Maybe she was too drunk to act sanely, maybe someone had put something in her drink to make her will-less, or maybe she was just so desperate that she took every opportunity she got to spend time with a man that wasn't just trying to get her into bed, that she forgot everything else.  
Or maybe it was something else. She didn't know, and she didn't care. For once, she just enjoyed what was right in front of her, without thinking of tomorrow or about what others might think. It was a feeling that was as new to her as it was exciting, and Jenny felt like a naughty teenager who had done something forbidden behind her parents' back.  
It felt good. Exciting.

"And was it worth it?" she asked, smirking. "Sneaking in and risking to get caught?"  
"Absolutely. And just for the record … I didn't sneak in. I wasn't invited, that's true. But … well, I told security I was your plus one and only running late."  
"You … did not."  
"Yes, I did. Are you disappointed?"  
Jenny shook her head. "No, I'm not. Just surprised that you knew I would be here and that I was coming alone. And … that you are here at all. Because of me."  
"Well," Kort said. "I have my sources. I knew you would be here and I knew you would be alone. And the rest … would you walk away when I told you that I was waiting for the chance to see you alone ever since we first met?" he asked tentative, almost afraid.  
"No, I wouldn't," Jenny replied, suprised by this confession. She'd never thought that he would be interested in her other than trying to keep her away from La Grenouille, and she wondered what had changed his mind - if he was honest with her here at all. "I would just be … surprised and ask, why you would want to see me again. Unless … This isn't just another game you're playing, is it?" She didn't really believe that it was one of his games, but she knew how good he was in playing her and she just had to ask. Just to be sure and before her heart was in danger to get broken.  
"It isn't a game, Jenny. I'm me. Just me. A desperate man trying to spend some time with a beautiful woman, he really likes. No more games, no tricks, no lies ... I promise."  
Jenny watched him carefully for a long moment, trying to figure out if what he'd said was the truth or another lie, but she couldn't find anything proving he was playing her. Either he was really that good or he was indeed telling the truth, and to be honest, Jenny wasn't sure how to feel about both alternatives at all.  
On one hand, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle another game someone tried to play with her, but on the other hand … how could she believe him? Why would he first made her life miserable, only to change his mind wanting to spend time with her?  
"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, when Jenny didn't answer. "That's okay. I think, if I were you, I wouldn't believe me either, Jenny. I just … if you could give me a chance ... that's all I'm asking. Only one chance to proof you I'm on your side. This one evening here, at the party. In public, with good old Hector watching over you, keeping you safe. Could you do this?"  
"I … I don't know," Jenny hesitated, although deep inside she'd already made her decision to give him a chance. What was there to loose? She would be stuck at this party anyway for some time, and when she had to choose between spending time with men leering at her with their wives standing next to them, and spending the evening with someone she felt comfortable with (and who was a great dancer and good-looking) she would always chose the latter - in this case, Trent Kort.  
"I think I could enjoy dancing with you for a bit longer," she finally said, smiled and this time it was her who moved closer to him, until her body was almost pressed against his. Her hand moved from his shoulder up to his neck and when he started smiling again, relieved that she hadn't left, she relaxed, too, and a comfortable silence fell over them as they continued to move slowly with the music.

For a long while, nobody talked. They just enjoyed each others company. Jenny forbid herself to question him or his intentions, and Kort tried to take as much as possible out of this moment, still afraid this would be the only night he might ever get to spend with her.  
Surprisingly, Jenny was enjoying herself more with every second that went by and her shoes that had been trying to kill her before, felt comfortable like she wasn't wearing shoes at all, and her dress gave her the sexy feeling back, she'd first felt when she'd tried it on in the boutique. She had the feeling that Kort was responsible for this, and her decision to stay instead of walking away, when she'd had the chance, felt better with every song the band played.

It wasn't until much later, that Jenny realized how fast the evening had gone by, and it was long after midnight when she woke up from her daydream she'd lived in ever since Kort had asked her to dance with him.  
Most of the guests, had already left and the ones that were still here had gathered at the bar, caught in conversation. The only one watching them dance, was Hector (Jenny had almost forgotten about her security detail), while he was talking to a young blond waitress, obviously enjoying himself.  
Jenny smiled, carefully changing their direction, until they were close enough to Hector that she could release him for the night. It was not necessary to have him on duty all night. She had her company and she was sure that Kort would drive her home even without asking. Hector looked as surprised as Kort when he heard Jenny's offer and after some assuring words that she would be fine without him, Hector agreed and left the room, accompanied by the blond waitress.  
"Does this mean you would share a cab with me?" Kort asked, leading her back to the dance floor.  
"You sound like you are surprised," Jenny said, smirking. "I thought that's part of the package. You know … keeping a girl company, making compliments, buying her drinks, taking her home afterwards …"  
"I haven't bought you a drink, yet."  
"That's because you don't have to pay for the drinks here."  
"I brought you a flower. Does that count?"  
Jenny laughed. "I will never forget that gift. That was really … sweet."  
"And you still sounding surprised."  
"I still am. A little … You know, I think I was wrong about you."  
"And that's a good thing?"  
"Absolutely." Jenny smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "And just for the record … I like surprises likes this," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear and she could feel him shiver.  
"Then I guess we make a good team, chéri. Because I like to surprise." He pulled her closer and Jenny leaned her head against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the last minutes they could spend at this party (and maybe in each others company). The band had stopped playing a while ago, and their music was replaced by pre-recorded songs that were almost as good as the live music before.  
"Play it again, Sam," Kort mumbled, when the next song started and Jenny looked up, confused.  
"What?" she asked.  
"Nothing. It's just … that song. It's from 'Casablanca'."  
"I know," Jenny said. "But the quote isn't. I don't know why people keep saying this. Ilsa asked Sam to play this song 'for old times' sake'. She never asked him to 'play it again'. But that's … that not important."  
"Oh, yes, it is." Kort grinned. "Because it shows that I should never try to argue with you about movies. You seem to be an expert."  
"I'm not. I hardly ever watch TV. I don't have the time. But I like old, classic movies, especially the ones with Humphrey Bogart. What about you? Do you like movies?"  
"Sometimes. When I have time or the right company to watch them with. But I have to admit that I've never seen 'Casablanca'. I know, I may be the only one on this planet who hasn't seen it, but ..."  
"Maybe we can change this?" Jenny offered. "What are you doing tomorrow? Or better … later."  
"I have nothing special planned that I couldn't change," he replied, shrugging, although Jenny could hear that he wasn't as disinterested as he wanted to appear.  
"How does dinner and a movie sound?" she asked, before she even knew what she was doing  
"Sounds like a great plan. But … isn't that also part of the package? That the guy invites the girl?"  
"Sure. You bring dinner, I own the movie." Jenny grinned. "But only because I'm a lousy cook and I don't want to poison you on our first date."  
"So it is a date then."  
"If you want it to be a date, Trent." Jenny smiled, recalling what he'd told her earlier. "That's the good thing about life ... You can always decide what you want to do ..."  
"That's good to know. It's a date then." They fell silent again, until the song was over, each of them caught up in thoughts about what tomorrow may or may not bring and while Jenny was trying to remember where she'd last seen the DVD, Kort was already one step ahead of her, trying to plan the time until it was time for dinner.  
When they song had ended, he'd made his plan - and had found the courage to ask the question he had wanted to ask all evening.  
"Do you … want to go to somewhere more private? I mean … now?"  
"I thought you'd never asked," Jenny replied and they both grinned, while they tried to leave the party without attracting any more attention, now both feeling like naughty teenager who were about to do something their parents should never know about.

**- The End -**


	23. Faking it

**TITLE:** Faking it**  
AUTHOR: **nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTERS:** Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE:** Gen, Angst**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT:** 300**  
SUMMARY: **Jenny and her mother always had their problems getting along well … - for prompt #20 'Every Time' at lj's 24_times**  
DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different. Violet, however, is mine (But I'm sure Jenny won't mind to get rid of her).**  
WARNING:** not beta'd.

_The thing about family disasters is  
that you never have to wait long before  
the next one puts the previous one into perspective.  
~Robert Brault_

~*~*~*~*~

What was supposed to be a quiet Christmas, had turned out to be her biggest nightmare in a long time.

It all started with a yellow cab, stopping in front of her townhouse, and it ended in the exact same way.  
It wasn't a problem that Jenny and her mother hardly ever agreed on things.  
It wasn't a problem that Violet hated Jenny's decision to choose her career over a family.  
It wasn't a problem that Violet desperately wanted grandchildren to spoil.  
It wasn't even a problem that Violet couldn't accept that her girl had grown-up and lived her own life.

No, what really killed the high spirits Jenny had been in, before that yellow cab had stopped in front of her house, was the fact that her mother just couldn't admit that she had a problem - with her daughter's life, with the choices she made … with almost everything.  
Violet never complained - not with words. Jenny never saw her mother not smile. She always pretended everything was fine. And still Jenny could feel that everything was, in fact, awfully wrong.  
Her mother was the most unsatisfied person in the world, and she was the reason why.  
She'd tried to talk to her, to understand; she'd asked about the problems … but all she ever got in return where lies that everything was fine. She'd even tried to change; for her mother, for her own peace …

Thirty years of trying, of pretending, and then suddenly, everything had changed. Her father's death had left her alone with a fight she was destined to lose.  
Maybe it was time to try something else; beat Violet at her own game.  
"It was nice to spend Christmas with family," Violet said, getting into the cap.  
"Yes, it was." Jenny smiled brightly, her fingers crossed behind her back.

**- The End -**


	24. Lost and Found

**TITLE:** Lost and Found**  
AUTHOR:** nicis_anatomy**  
CHARACTER: **Jenny Shepard**  
GENRE: **Gen, Angst**  
RATING: **PG**  
WORD COUNT: **1000**  
SUMMARY: **Jenny had almost given up, but a little boy managed to show her that there was still something left worth living for ... Written for prompt #22 "Extra Time" for lj's 24_times. **  
WARNINGS: **English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. Spoiler for season 5!**  
DISCLAIMER: **I don't own these characters (although I'd love to own Action Figure Gibbs), nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different. Jamie and Dr. Johnson are mine. They were also featured in "A Christmas to Remember" (but this story stands alone).**  
NOTE:** This is my last story for this prompt table. I had a lot of fun doing the challenge, and although I had planned to finish it by the end of last year, I'm still proud that I managed to finish it at all ;)

~*~*~*~*

"I'm sorry I don't have better news, Jenny." Dr. Johnson gave her a sympathetic look.  
"You don't have to apologize, Dr. Johnson," Jenny said. "I'm sure, you did everything you could and in the end ... well, I guess in the end that's all that counts." She tried hard to keep her voice steady, but the tears in the corners of her eyes that slowly started to blur her vision couldn't fail the man in front of her. Avoiding eye contact, Jenny stared at the framed pictures behind him.  
All photos had captured moments of happiness; people looking into the camera, smiling as if nothing could ever happen in their lives to destroy these moments of pure happiness. Jenny secretly envied these people, although she knew that no one's life was only filled with happiness and that at some point everyone reached a time that literally felt like the end of the world.  
She had just reached that point - again, but although she'd known for weeks that there wasn't much hope left, she was devastated by the shattering news.  
"How long do I have?"  
"Five month, maybe seven," Johnson replied. "I'm sorry, Jenny. I wish there would be anything else we could do, but there is no treatment. We have ways to make you comfortable, but there is no cure ..."  
"Five month?" Jenny asked, ignoring the words that were meant to be comforting, but only felt empty and meaningless for her. She knew, Johnson only wanted to help, but she also knew that there was nothing he could do.  
Only five month ... too short compared to what others had left; too short for all the things in her life she still wanted to do ...  
Five month ... only a blink of an eye.

When Jenny was young, she could hardly wait to be a grown-up. Back then, each day had felt like a year, and a year like eternity. When she was older she'd wished for life to slow down, giving her time to finish a report, homework, taking a nap or just enjoying what she'd worked for so hard. But, no matter how hard she'd tried to slow down, hours had turned into days, days into weeks, before she even realized it, another year was over.  
How was she supposed to hold on to the idea of five more months to live? How was she supposed to make the most out of these month when she couldn't control how fast they'd go by?  
Time - as she'd learned - was one of the things in life she could not control. And it scared her.  
Jenny looked down on the crumbled tissue in her shaking hands, unsure of what she should do next.

"Jenny, I know this is hard and I know that you feel as if your life is already over," Johnson said. "But you shouldn't give up. You have still plenty of time left. So many people die without the chance to say goodbye. They leave their houses in the morning, expecting to return in a few hours, and then they're hit by a car or shot by someone."  
"I know," Jenny mumbled, "that's part of the reason why my job was created." Sighing she looked up. "I appreciate your words, Dr. Johnson. But I don't think there's anything you can do to make me feel better right now." She took her back ready to leave, but Johnson hold her back.  
"Jenny, you can't just give up. Life is unfair, I know. And believe me ... I've seen more misery than a man should. But unlike those people I just talked about, you have something left. It might sound lame and five months is nothing compared to what you would have left without the illness, but these months are time you can - and should - spend being happy. Think about it, Jenny. I'll see you next Monday."

Slowly, Jenny left the office, too afraid to face the world outside the hospital.  
She still felt miserable and the urge to break down and cry until she had no more tears left, was stronger than ever before, but at the same time her stubbornness didn't allow her to show anyone close to her how she really felt. She didn't need anyone's pity; she couldn't risk dragging the people she loved down with her.  
She'd told Ducky about her condition, but only because she needed his opinion – as a doctor. That was enough. No one else was ever going to find out that she was dying. She needed to keep smiling, even when she didn't felt like doing it.

Unfortunately, a faked smile couldn't fool everyone ...

"Jenny? Are you sad?" Jenny could hear Jamie's voice, before she even noticed the little boy. Looking down, she met Jamie's concerned look. Realizing she'd scared him, Jenny swallowed.  
"Was Dr. J mean to you?" Jamie asked. "If he was, I could go talk to him."  
"Dr. Johnson wasn't mean, Jamie," Jenny said, and this time her smile was real. As usual, Jamie had managed to cheer her up by just being there at the right time. "Actually, he asked me to tell you that you shouldn't watch so much TV."  
"He did not!"  
"Are you sure?" Jenny asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Of course! Jenny… do you want to help me with my jigsaw? Or do you need to go back to work?" Jamie looked at her begging, and suddenly everything Johnson had said earlier started to make sense.  
Jenny realized he was right. She had five months left she shouldn't waste by being upset or angry about things she couldn't change or stop. These five month were the most precious gift: extra time and the chance to make the best of it by spending it the way she wanted; by loving, living and enjoying every second.  
"I have all day, Jamie." Taking the little boy's hand, Jenny followed him into his room, and every step raised new hope Jenny had thought she'd lost, bringing the smile back on her face.

**- The End -**


End file.
